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t 



STOLEN STEPS 


A STORY 



SQUIER L. FIERCE 

AUTHOR OF “Dl” 



** I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ; 

Nor dare I say, Tis mine ; and yet it is ; 

But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal 
What law does vouch mine own/* 

All's Well That £nds Well. 









Copyright, 1892, 

BY 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 




Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 1. 
Richland Cottage 


PAGE 

. . . 6 

CHAPTER 11. 

Alvin Smith 


. . . 15 

CHAPTER III. 

Fishing 



CHAPTER IV. 

Scientists 



CHAPTER V. 

Elysium — Dream Sonnet 



CHAPTER VI. 

Quandary , 



CHAPTER VII. 

Cord-wood and Eggs 


. . ., 62 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Doctor and Flowers 


. . . 73 

CHAPTER IX. 

Mittened 




CHAPTEK X. 

The Mittened Man Meets his Mother at her Olive 
Street Home 92 


3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XL 

Captain William Putnam 


PAGE 

97 


CHAPTER XII. 

Captain Putnam makes a Journey, and then Another 101 I 


CHAPTER XIIL 

A Lover armed with a Sting 


Hattie Powell 

CHAPTER XIV. 

117 


CHAPTER XV. 

128 : 


CHAPTER XVI. 

i 

j 

137 i 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Brutal Father 

. . • • • 148 

j 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

166 1 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Love that was a Spark from the Altar of God . . 166 


, CHAPTER XX. 

Softly the Spirit of the North Wind drew the 
Coverlet of Snow over her, and in her white 

COUCH LULLED HER TO SLEEP 173 


CHAPTER XXL 


Happy Faces 
Epilogue . . 


179 

187 


STOLEN STEPS 


CHAPTER I. 

RICHLAND COTTAGE. 

Toot shrilly shrieked the locomotive whistle of 
the Manitoba train. Wyzetta droned the brakeman. 
Within five minutes the train was again speeding on 
its westward way, laden with its freight of humanity, 
while scores of men, women, and children, who had 
been deposited at the station, went aboard the little 
steamer, on Lake Minnetonka, that had awaited the 
arrival of the train. 

^^What a change!’^ exclaimed Miss Grace Putnam 
to her companion, Mr. Henry Hardwick, as they stood 
on the deck of the steamer that now, with pompous 
puffs from the pipe of its engine, moved from the pier. 
^^Talk about Forest Park at home! Did you ever 
breathe such refreshing air as this? Isn’t this per- 
fectly splendid ?” 

Perhaps,” answered her companion, ^^your long 
ride up the Mississippi Valley, in the confining cars, 
unfitted you to judge impartially of the merits of 
Minnetonka. The change is certainly agreeable, but 
it hardly becomes a citizen of St. Louis to speak lightly 
1 * 6 


6 


STOLEN STEPS, 


of Forest Park, which, as every one in our city knows, 
is next to the largest one in the United States/’ 

Oh, Mr. Hardwick, if we could only take this lake 
home with us and put it down by Forest Park, wouldn’t 
we beat all creation ?” 

I am afraid not. Miss Enthusiast ; in fact, we would 
gain little, unless we could take with us the atmosphere 
of this place as well as the lake. The Minneapolitan 
will tell you that, putting the lake and the atmosphere 
of the place together, nature has furnished the twin 
cities a park surpassing in salubrity and beauty any- 
thing to be found on the globe. When you come to 
know the people of the twin cities, you will find it 
necessary to make considerable allowance for shrinkage 
in what they say, for their vocabulary contains adjec- 
tives only in the superlative degree of comparison.” 

Well, since we can’t transport it to the South, we 
must give thanks for the river and railroads that can 
transport us to this delightful place for a summer out- 
ing. See that love of a cottage nestling among the 
trees over there. 

What a lot of sail-boats. They don’t seem to be 
short of wind in this country. Wouldn’t it be splendid 
to sail in one of them such a day as this? They just|c 
fly over the water. What a splendid view ? The I 
forest on the shores, the blue sky and the blue waters ; 
seem gradually to merge into one, forming a vista into 
which our boat is steaming. What beautiful, cozy |j 
cottages these are along the shore among the green J 
trees ! What a contrast between them and the strag- j 
gling, ungainly caricatures of dwellings along the roads i 
in Missouri !” , 


RICHLAND COTTAGE, 


7 


Still disparaging your own State/’ answered Hard- 
wick. These cottages are mostly the summer homes 
of the well-to-do people of the twin cities, who glory 
in embellishing them. The houses you noticed along 
the lines of the roads in Missouri are the tenements 
occupied by renters of the land, who have no induce- 
ment to improve or beautify, for it would only be for 
the benefit of the landlords, and with them they have 
no sympathy.” 

“ How the wind sweeps round that high, projecting 
point,” said the young lady, and she drew her wrap 
about her shoulders. It almost takes my breath.” 

That,” said the captain, attracted by her remark, 
is Breezy Point. Beyond it — you can just make it 
out from here — is Richland Point. It is the property 
and summer home of a St. Louis lawyer, who has 
retired from practice.” 

‘^Indeed!” exclaimed the delighted girl. Rich- 
land Point ! But I don’t see the cottage ; it is said he 
has the most picturesque one on the lake.” 

^^ So he has,” answered the captain. ^^Take this 
glass and look.” 

Oh, how beautiful ! I do not mean the house 
only, but the landscape. I can hardly distinguish the 
cottage from the forest that seems to infold it in its 
skirts. Take the glass, Mr. Hardwick, and tell me if 
you ever set your eyes on a prospect more charming ! 
That is where we want to stop, captain, if you please. 
Now it is in full sight. What splendid trees !” 

Yes,” responded the captain, admiring the trans- 
ported maiden more than the Richland Point prospect, 
trees are Richland’s special hobby. His entire three- 


8 


STOLEN STEPS. 


hundred-acre tract is a fine maple forest. He has 
cleared them off in front of the cottage, as you see, 
leaving the ones with most abundant branches for shade 
and ornament. Notice the green lawn extending up- 
ward from the margin of the lake, to what he persists 
in calling his ^ cottage,^ but which is really a mag- 
nificent chateau. Notice, too, that the cottage has no 
glaring, distracting colors. It so harmonizes with the 
surroundings that I have heard persons of fanciful turn 
of mind say it almost looks as though nature, in one 
of her playful moods, had set a copy in the art of 
human ardiitecture for the human architect and land- 
scapist to follow.^’ 

And there are the blessed inhabitants of this charm- 
ing realm of the beautiful cried Grace, as she dis- 
covered Mr. and Mrs. Richland passing leisurely down 
the sylvan walk to the landing. With a graceful curve 
the gangway of the boat passed alongside the rustic 
wharf, and, with the elastic spring of a nymph, Grace 
leaped upon it, exclaiming, as she was clasped in the 
welcoming arms of Mrs. Richland, It is all a mis- 
take.^^ 

You have the advantage of us, Grace,^’ said Hard- ! 
wick, who had now landed. You possibly under- j 
stand the trend of your thoughts, but to us they savor | 
of mental disorder. Try and get down to the earth, l 
which you once more tread after the short, but to you ! 
intoxicating, voyage from Wyzetta to Richland Point.^^ ! 

How dreadfully unappreciative you are, Mr. Hard- ^ 
wick ! Don^t you realize that we are in Eden, and ! 
that the story of the expulsion and the cherubim, || 
armed with their flaming swords, which turned every 


RICHLAND COTTAGE. 9 

way, IS a delusion and a mistake? This is the verita- 
ble Eden, and these are its undisturbed inhabitants.” 

I think I understand your case,” said Mrs. Rich- 
land. “ You have been so long shut up in the city, 
and become so habituated to the artificiality of city life, 
that the adornments with which nature plumes herself 
seem strange and unearthly, when in fact, to one edu- 
cated to appreciate nature in its primitive belongings, 
the earth is found to be a charming abode for man, and 
remains the same paradise it was in the pre-adamic age. 
God made the country, man the city; but this is no 
time for this style of talk. You will find, Mr. Hard- 
wick, that Minnetonka produces a ravenous appetite, 
and that the climate develops adequate digestive powers. 
Judging from your rather emaciated appearance, I sus- 
pect you have not enjoyed the luxury of feeling hungry 
for many a day. Our rural istic life is what you and hun- 
dreds and millions of our cramped, overworked denizens 
of the city are in need of more than anything else. 
Come along and join us in our mid-day lunch.” 

“Dear Mrs. Richland, you have been too realistic 
for my state of mind. I fear you have plucked the 
feathers from my beautiful bird of Paradise, and trans- 
formed it into a stuffed fowl, to be roasted, carved, and 
eaten,” said Grace, as she proceeded with the company 
towards the cottage. 

“Well, my dear dreamer,” said Mrs. Richland, 
“ real poetry has its root in the palate. One who has 
no taste for the food he eats is not possessed of a brain 
in normal, working order. The flower of poetry can- 
not bloom in perfection when the plant is stunted 
through lack of nutriment. Your bird of Paradise is 


10 


STOLEN STEPS, 


a myth, while your stuffed fowl is a palatable reality 
which your poet, if not unfitted for his vocation, will 
relish. Some things are too matter-of-fact to be ap- 
propriate themes for the poet, but, in the way of con- 
ducing to peace, happiness, and enjoyment, they surpass 
in importance all the poet has ever sung or artist de- 
picted on canvas. One of these matter-of-fact things 
is an appetite for food, coupled with sound digestive 
organs and a good conscience.^^ 

You have struck the key-note, Mrs. Eichland,^^ 
said Hardwick, gravely. 

^^Then I have a near neighbor, Mr. Hardwick,^^ 
said Richland, that I want you to get acquainted 
with. She eats with a relish that would seem incredible 
in view of the quantity consumed daily, and her diges- 
tion is so perfect that, immediately after eating, she 
sinks into a slumber so deep that even dreams would 
knock in vain for admission to her serene mind. As 
for her conscience, I don’t believe she ever had an un- I 
pleasant thought in her life. Mrs. Richland, at your | 
earliest convenience, pray introduce Mr. Hardwick to ! 
Miss Dawson.” | 

Really,” said Grace, such a person must be a : 
rare being.” j 

Very,” responded Mrs. Richland, with a hearty j 
laugh. He is guying you. Miss Dawson is our | 
porkine occupant of the pigsty.” ! 

Grace laughed, and in her laughter there was some- ij 
thing to remind one of the gurgling of the brook 
rippling singingly over pebbles. ' 

‘^Dear Mr. Richland,” she exclaimed, ^^you have in i| 
the person of Miss Dawson a fitting type of some very 


RICHLAND COTTAGE. 


11 


pretentious persons of ray acquaintance at horae. You 
have drawn aside Mrs. Richland’s too raatter-of-fact 
curtain that shuts from view the blue heaven where 
fancy and imagination love to linger, and on airy 
nothings feast with a relish and enjoyment that must 
be exquisite, if we are to judge by the samples they 
have sublimated into the form of poems and stories for 
the delectation of the millions. It is true this kind 
of food is without nutriment for the people of your 
Miss Dawson order, but it is the very kind required 
for the development of imagination, without which we 
are like a ship becalmed at sea. A hundred thanks, 
Mr. Richland, for your service ; you are my champion.” 

“ And here,” exclaimed the old gentleman, drawing 
his arm about her waist, is one of the cherubs that 
has flitted into my paradise to tempt me to pluck of the 
forbidden fruit that blushes so invitingly on her beau- 
tiful cheeks,” saying which he accepted the profiered 
kiss with the gallantry of a knight of the olden days. 

“ Mrs. Richland,” said the girl, with a mischievous, 
bantering glance in the face of the last speaker, I 
envy you ; and you must not get unreasonably jealous 
if I fall dreadfully in love with your husband. I shall 
try and obtain one for myself of like youthful heart 
and mature understanding. I find men are like the 
peach, — most delicious when ripe.” 

Richland gave Hardwick a knowing wink, the exact 
purport of which Grace at once realized, and was only 
the more beautiful for the blush it produced. 

‘^Flatterer,” said Mrs. Richland, ‘Met us descend 
from the realm of the fanciful to that of the substan- 
tial.” They had reached the cottage, and found back 


12 


STOLEN STEPS, 


of it, under a maple’s friendly shade, a table spread 
with an inviting lunch. ^‘All be seated,” said the 
hostess. 

At this moment there was heard the merry voices of 
the two daughters and a grandson of Mr. Richland as 
they approached by a forest path. Gay they were and 
joyous as the birds in the trees. 

As they sat at lunch, in the conversation Mrs. Rich- 
land said, Yes, Miss Putnam, this is truly a lova- 
ble summer retreat; but you must not imagine that 
any of us are edenized anywhere on this restless planet. 
Some flowerets of Eden may indeed remain, but no- 
thing is more certain than that ^ the trail of the ser- 
pent is over them all.’ Our business, my dear, is to 
gather and enjoy the beauty and perfume of the flow- 
ers ; but it is well to have a prudent lookout for the 
serpent that may be coiled in unsuspected places, and 
avoid the venom of its fangs.” 

Could you enjoy the retirement of a place like 
this ?” inquired Richland of Hardwick. 

Possibly I might accustom myself to it,” was the 
response ; “ but, candidly, with me the completest rest 
is when I forget myself in the engrossment of busi- 
ness.” 

I understand that, Mr. Hardwick ; it is the un- 
fortunate forgetfulness that is sometimes known to end 
in the collapse of the brain. You know our old mer- *: 
cantile friend, Smith, forgot himself that way, and that 
now his widow has his splendid tomb to visit and adorn 
with floral oflerings.” f 

A smile that seemed nearly related to a sigh was the j 
only response. 


RICHLAND COTTAGE. 


13 


Late in the afternoon the young ladies and little 
Howard, the grandson, strolled into the forest. In 
their random rambles they finally emerged from the 
wood at a point where an inlet of the lake appeared. 
There they discovered Mr. Hardwick seated in the 
stern of a boat that was chained to the shore. So ab- 
sorbed was he in his own musings that he failed to see 
or hear the approaching strollers till the child was 
aboard the rocking craft with its lone occupant, Grace, 
too, found a seat at the prow, while the two Richland 
girls perched themselves on a seat near by. 

See the fishes !’’ exclaimed little Howard, as he 
looked into the transparent waters. 

How contented and restful they appear,’’ said 
Grace. I have often wondered whether they have a 
language and can communicate with each other, and 
whether there are any relations of special friendship 
among the finny inhabitants of the waters.” 

There !” cried Howard ; there comes a big one 
out of the deep water ; isn’t he a beauty ?” 

Yes,” replied Hardwick, those big ones are bright, 
noble fellows ; but they are scaly creatures, and danger- 
ous company for these little innocents to fall in with. 
See !” 

The naughty old thing ! to gobble up the little one 
that way !” cried the boy. That tiny little fish was 
some one’s baby, too ; but, then, I don’t suppose its 
mamma knows or cares anything about it; and I’m 
sure that’s a good thing for its mamma ; for, if I should 
get gobbled up that way, Jeewhilikins ! wouldn’t my 
mamma take on !” 

^ The girls laughed at the odd conceit of the child, 
2 


14 


STOLEN STEPS, 


while the man, apparently reminded of some unpleas- 
ant incident in his experience by this childish sally, 
observed, Come, Grace, the sun is getting low, and 
we must join our friends at the hotel/^ 

Returning to the cottage to take leave of their enter- 
tainers, Grace and Hardwick proceeded from there 
along the winding, sylvan way through the forest to 
the Hotel St. Louis, less than a mile distant. 


ALVIN SMITH. 


15 


CHAPTER IL 

ALVm SMITH. 

From her earliest remembrance Grace had been on 
the most intimate terms with Henry Hardwick. He 
was more than twenty years her senior. She had long 
noticed that to her father he was not only devoted but 
indispensable. Serious and reserved, he had never 
failed to have pleasant and loving words for her. His 
influence drew him to her so forcibly that she looked 
for his return, when called away on business, with all 
the solicitude a child feels for a parent. Now that she had 
bloomed into womanhood, she continued to revere and 
love him, while, on his part, he seemed unconscious of 
affection for any of the fair sex save this devoted girl, 
who seemed to him, apparently, only the child of earlier 
days. He seldom spoke of himself, and such was his 
dignified reserve, that not even his most intimate asso- 
ciates felt free to ask him any questions concerning the 
experiences of his early life. 

It was decidedly a new departure on his part, when 
he temporarily abandoned business and joined with a few 
acquaintances in a summer outing at the Northern lake, 
where we now find him, seated in a private parlor of the 
Hotel St. Louis, with Grace, on the evening of the day 
after the visit at Richland Cottage. 


16 


STOLEN STEPS. 


Grace was reading the Minnetonka items in the 
Minneapolis Tribune. “ Here/^ she said, showing him 
a paragraph, you see that even in the distant North- 
west your journeyiugs are chronicled/^ She read : 

Among the arrivals at the Hotel St. Louis we notice 
that of Henry Hardwick, the successful and opulent 
capitalist of St. Louis. Mr. Hardwick is still in the 
prime of life, and looks as though he could tackle the 
business problems of this iron age with the energy and 
ability of a Napoleon. Few men have attained a more 
enviable position.^^ 

Laying down the paper, the young lady with mock 
enthusiasm clapped her delicate hands. 

Please don’t do that, Grace. While we may par- 
don the obsequious reporter for pandering where thrift 
may follow fawning, who is ever ready to laud the for- 
tunate and kick the scaffolding from under the victim 
of mistake or disaster, you know how utterly hollow 
all these words of praise are. Enviable position, in- 
deed ! The world prostrates itself at the feet of wealth. 
When it falls on its knees in the worship of an all- 
merciful God with half the ardor it bows before Mam- 
mon, it will have made a tremendous stride upward 
and onward.” 

Taking the girl’s hand and looking fondly at its sym- 
metrical structure, he continued : This delicate hand 
of my little girl is not strong enough to grapple the 
rough, heavy rocks that, by our own folly or inadver- 
tence, or by rival contestants for the world’s imaginary 
prizes, are caused to obstruct our progress, and which 
one must get out of one’s way in order to succeed. 
The work and time required to remove these obstruc- 


ALVIN SMITH, 


17 


tions, and the devotion of our body and soul to the 
work which competition exacts as a condition of success, 
strengthens the hand and the intellect, but hardens and 
sears the heart, so that while the world may praise, it 
cannot restore the loss of the boon, — capacity to enjoy. 
In my estimation, Grace, you are wealthier in the pos- 
session of this innocent, soft, clear- veined hand than is 
the possessor of millions of accumulated gold wlio has 
lost this boon.^^ 

It was with such indescribable sadness Mr. Hardwick 
uttered these words that Grace was moved to tears. 
To Hardwick these tears seemed to drop as from a 
cloud he had inadvertently caused to mantle her brow, 
and he continued : I am unfortunate, indeed, in causing 
useless clouds to exclude the one ray of sunshine with 
which your innocent, cheerful face illumines my own 
wasted life. I went beyond myself. I would have 
you ever bright and happy. We must avoid extremes. 
This hand is too delicate ; it lacks vigor. The oar uj)on 
the boat and the breeze upon the lake must be familiar- 
ized. We are here for enjoyment. In my case it is a 
novel employment. Success depends upon your co- 
operation. Follow my direction, and when you return 
to the city your father will not recognize in my nut- 
brown maid the pale-faced daughter he sent away. 
Good-night and happy dreams.^^ 

With the good-night kiss she ever awarded him, he 
took his leave. Grace retired to her couch, and, just 
sufficiently exhausted by the* exercises of the day to 
relish rest, was soon in the embrace of sleep, tired 
Nature’s sweet restorer.” 

The sun was above the horizon when she again he- 
ft 2* 


18 


STOLEN STEPS. 


came conscious of existence. When one awakes, one dis- 
covers that the stream of thought is flowing ; whether 
this stream ever rests is not known. On this occasion, 
Mr. Hardwick was the theme. Why,’’ — it was thus 
the stream flowed in the unseen channel of her con- 
sciousness, — why is the good soul so severely hard 
on himself? He seems to fancy his heart is seared by 
long contact with worldly business. He does himself 
the greatest injustice. Business has neither hardened 
his heart nor his sensibilities. I wonder why he does 
not marry? Then I would have to give him up. 
God have mercy ! How could I do that ? But I love 
him so well that I would even make that sacrifice, if it 
would make the dear misanthrope happy. A wife of 
the right kind would sweeten his life. On my word, 
that is just the thing. Now, if the dear old fellow only 
knew what foolish thoughts I am this blessed moment 
thinking, wouldn’t he relax that solemn face of his and 
have a real laugh at my expense. Could I give him up? 
Never : I do love him so dearly. I am a goose ; per- 
haps I am a swan, and my dying song will be in the 
celebration of his nuptials.” 

She was now sitting up in bed. Thus she sat and 
still she mused : ‘‘ Why does he fondle and seem to so 
much fancy poor me? Is it because he thinks I am | 
still a child, and is not conscious that I am now more I 
than twenty-two? Twenty-two! Yes, almost twenty- | 
three. Mercy : how dreadfully old I am becoming.” j 
As she sat in her white *night-dress on the side of the i 
bed she looked in the mirror on the opposite side of the i 
room, but failed to detect any evidences in her face of the | 
ravages of age. She continued : “ Well, if he wants me, 


ALVIN SMITH. 


19 


I shall not object, — after all, I do not know about that/^ 
She put on her hose and shoes. I am a goose, and no 
mistake.^^ She sat a minute or two longer in medita- 
tion, when she rose and went to the glass. Carefully 
she unwrapped the rolls into which her hair had been 
done up ; she combed and adjusted the soft raven tresses ; 
then she repaired to the washstand and performed her 
morning ablution. Lastly, she put on her light, woollen 
dress, that fitted her form so perfectly that the form re- 
mained the feature of beauty rather than the adornment 
of dress ; an important consideration when one is for- 
tunate enough to possess a form more beautiful than the 
most finished costume. She sallied forth from her room 
an undeniable human morning-glory. That, at least, 
was the impromptu decision of a young gentleman who 
had arrived from St. Louis during the night, Mr. Alvin 
Smith. 

Alvin Smith was the book-keeper for the business 
firm of which Hardwick and Grace’s father were mem- 
bers. The maiden, who had been indulging in the 
reveries so interesting of which Hardwick had been 
the chief theme, could not satisfactorily account for the 
decided thrill of satisfaction she experienced on meet- 
ing the admiring look of this young man. 

Alvin’s face was pale, the result of continued close 
confinement and overwork. When Grace visited her 
father at his office, not long before leaving the city, she 
had been startled by his colorless but bright face, and 
had suggested to Mr. Hardwick that Smith needed an 
outing. She had formed his acquaintance years before 
in the public school, and had always admired his in- 
dependent, manly deportment. She had noticed that 


20 


STOLEN STEPS. 


as a student he always seemed earnest^ and, in the 
occasional remarks made by him during class recita- 
tions, that his mind was clear and comprehensive. In 
our public schools we have the nearest approximation 
of all classes to an equality. Here credit is accorded 
to the one who merits it, and the son of the washer- 
woman is the peer of the daughter of the banker and 
the merchant. This is the democracy in which the 
roots of our American republic gather the nutrition 
that supplies the trunk and branches with appropriate 
material for the development of healthy tissue. 

The straitened circumstances of his widowed mother 
had, in the early childhood of Alvin Smith, compelled 
her to resort to the most menial employment for the 
support of herself and child. The young man remem- 
bered — not without a pang of loving regret — the old 
days when she had been obliged to take in washing for 
this purpose ; he could also remember the cheery song , 
with which she sometimes enlivened her work when he ! 
was present. i 

She had possessed the happy faculty of teaching the I 
youth to walk. In this few parents succeed, especially | 
in the city. Her self-sacrifices in his behalf had been } 
abundantly rewarded. When her son received his | 
diploma in the high-school, and afterwards in a busi- | 
ness college, he was still a boy in years, but a man in 
solidity and reliability of character. The godlike spirit 
of the mother who bore him still held him, a willing ! 
subject, in its all-embracing love. Oh, the majesty of 
motherhood ! Happy was the youth when he was able ' 
to retire this devoted parent to a home in a suburban j 
cottage, and support her comfortably with his earnings. 


ALVIN SMITH, 


21 


But Alvin failed to find happiness or contentment 
in this home. The goad, ambition, pricked him con- 
stantly. Besides, he felt an oppressive sense of the 
artificial barriers which isolated him from what, in his 
ignorance, he considered the higher circles of society ; 
as if there could be a higher one than that of which 
his mother and himself constituted the sole and exclu- 
sive members. 

The sense of this isolation was perhaps the result of 
being once more in the immediate atmosphere, but not 
in the social circle, of the young school-girl he had 
associated with and still mutely loved. Little did he 
know how in those school-days the eyes of that same 
school-girl stole coy, bashful glances at him. Little 
we know of the currents and counter-currents in the 
unfathomable deep of the maiden’s mind. 

Another gentleman also observed Grace with keen 
interest as she stepped onto the veranda that delightful 
morning. It was her cousin, Thomas Putnam, who 
had accompanied the excursion party from St. Louis. 
He was also the only child of a widowed mother ; but 
the similarity extended no further. Thomas Putnam 
was at least thirty, and all that was required to consti- 
tute him a man of the world and a welcome member of 
society he possessed in superabundance, if we except 
the important quality of congeniality. Of commanding 
stature, his form was well-proportioned, and his dress 
of that artistic quality his experienced tailor knew 
would show off his splendid physique at the best. His 
gait was easy and graceful, and his face was really 
beautiful in feature ; not delicate like that of a woman, 
but strong and masculine. 


22 


STOLEN STEPS, 


The student of human nature would have seen in 
the expression of the girl, when she greeted Mr. Put- 
nam, a spirit of toleration rather than that of actual 
liking for her relative. The same student would have 
read in his face and manner a spirit of admiration and 
affection for Grace, subordinated to a more engrossing 
admiration of his own immaculate self. 

The easy manner with which Grace conversed with 
Putnam and other gentlemen of her social circle, and 
the slight attention she appeared to bestow on him, 
touched Smith sensibly ; for it was his misfortune to 
have a keen, sensitive spirit, capable of extreme suffer- 
ing and of exalted enjoyment. 

The presence of Alvin was a surprise to Grace, for, 
she had no expectation of his coming. Highly as she 
respected him, she, by that unaccountable psychological 
sense that enables sympathetic souls to commune, in- 
dependent of the material faculties, shared his feelings. | 
She felt restrained, by the galling chain of social des- 
potism, from yielding to her impulse to recognize and 
greet him with the pleasure she really felt at seeing 
him so unexpectedly. To the young man this enforced 
restraint had all the appearance of cold indifference. 
Having no reason to expect different treatment, he had 
no reason to feel resentment; but in matters of the' 
heart reason is dumb. At least it sometimes looks that^ 
way. When people grow old, they look back contem- 
platively on this emotion we call love, and debate in' 
their minds whether love is anything more than a mere 
fantastic sentiment; whether all this gush about love, 
which composes the bulk of fiction, has any other basis 
than the freaks of imagination. With the young sucM 


ALVIN SMITH, 


23 


questions are out of order, and blessed be the god, 
Cupid, that they are. 

Beautiful and novel as were the surroundings and 
scenery, Alvin spent the day in lonely and unpleasing 
reflections on the social world that separated him from 
happiness. This girl was the inspiration of his dreams ; 
she was the one bright, particular star in the constel- 
lation of his heaven. And now, alas he said to 
himself, as he wandered listlessly in the evening, she 
is as cold and unapproachable as yonder orbs in the 
robe of night.^’ He felt that he was at least entitled 
to notice. The manner of his reception in the morning 
and total neglect during the day, in view of the old 
school-day familiarity, was magnified into a disposition 
to snub him as one beneath her notice. A sense of 
this chilled him more by far than the cold night wind 
blowing in from the dashing lake. The tossing of the 
lake was a symbol of his own perturbed spirit. He 
was in the road where it emerged from the forest near 
I the hotel. He failed to see the girl where she had 
, paused in the shadow of the gloomy wood, 
f ‘‘ Mr. Smith ^ 

Had the heavens indeed stooped, and the glorious 
[ being he hopelessly adored been yielded up to his 
^ yearning soul ? No longer felt he the chilling breeze 
I from the troubled lake. 

For the moment Alvin forgot the barrier as he stood 
f with Grace in the shadow of the forest. He exclaimed 
: with a fervor that the girl could not misinterpret, — 
i ‘‘ You, Miss Putnam 

I The mere words were simple enough, and it was a 
i marvel to Grace how the utterance of them could be so 


24 


STOLEN STEPS. 


unmistakably a revelation to her of that greatest and 
grandest of all objects, — a human heart pulsating with 
pure, true love. Nor was the fact displeasing to her. 
By the light of that heart she obtained for an instant 
an introspection of her own. 

But there was a sudden revulsion in the feeling of 
the proud-spirited young man. The ugly fact suddenly 
flashed in his mind that Grace had in the morning shown 
him the cold shoulder, and that when he should next meet 
her in the company of her society friends, the ungracious 
act would be repeated. This was but an accidental 
meeting ; the barrier arose in all its galling hardness, and 
behind it the loved one disappeared. 

His words grew cold and formal, and Grace pursued 
her steps alone to the hotel. While she felt hurt, she 
could not conceal from herself the fact of the revelation, 
and she was not lacking in acumen to discover the cause 
of the sudden suppression of the feeling that prompted 
his first utterance. 

As Alvin watched the retreating form of Miss Put- 
nam, he felt ashamed of himself. He had been unjust. 
If the arbitrary and galling restraints of society oper- 
ated upon her, was she responsible for their existence? 
Had she not just showu a willingness to do her part in[[ 
opening a way of escape from a thraldom hardly lesd^ 
inimical to her own natural feeling than it was to his? i 
He recalled the tone in which she had spoken his name. I 
It was too charming and tender to have been the false 
note of an unfeeling heart. 

He could but keenly feel that he had forfeited her 
esteem by conduct that amounted to actual incivility. 

After all,’^ he very sensibly said to himself, why 


ALVIN SMITH. 


25 


should I complain or put on airs? What have I ever 
done or said to awaken in her mind the remotest idea 
that her father’s book-keeper is weak enough to be in 
love with her ?” He actually laughed at the presump- 
tion and forgetfulness of the fact that he was to her as 
any one of the thousands of young men who must admire, 
but had no reason to expect her to favor them in the 
avowal of their regard or affection, if it existed. He 
resolved to renounce his Quixotic fancies and exercise 
his common sense. 

But the youngster was mistaken in his conclusions. 
Grace had learned much of his history. Hardwick had 
told her how the mother of this hard-working, ambi- 
tious young book-keeper had been accustomed to do his 
washing, and how the little boy used to carry his clothes 
to him, done up in the most perfect order ; what an 
obliging, prepossessing fellow he was even then, and 
what an interest he had felt for him and his mother 
on that account. 

When Grace entered her room that evening and took 
up a magazine to read an interesting story she had com- 
^ menced, she failed to find the interest she had formerly 
\ felt in the personages. Her thoughts were on that 
f young man who had actually repelled her kindly efforts 
j to be social with him. Her eyes might scan the letters 
j and words of the story, but the current of her mind was 
agitated with another theme, and it was all-engrossing, 
c “ This is a new experience,” so she mused. I am used 
to being courted and flattered by the dashing fellows of 
':i society, who are only too glad to catch at a word of en- 
couragement ; but this young gentleman, without any 
1 credentials that Madam Grundy would tolerate, pre- 
I B 3 

;! 


26 


STOLEN STEPS, 


sumes to lord it over me as though he were a born prince. 
He expects to be coddled by others, as no doubt he is by 
his mother to the full extent of her capacity, — well, his 
mother has not coddled the fellow for nothing; that 
must be confessed. I really admire his independence. 

I like him, and can but think that sometime he will 
be able not only to hold up his head with that innate 
manly dignity, but that the Madam Grundys of society 
will feel honored when he bends sufficiently to give 
them a recognition. That’s Mr. Hardwick ; I would 
know his step anywhere.” Putting a wrap around her 
shoulders, she went onto the veranda, and like a spirit 
of love and comfort glided up to the side of that som- 
bre-hearted individual, and had taken his arm before 
he realized her presence. 

‘‘ This is kind of you, my dear,” he said, with that 
gentleness with which he always addressed her. “ I 
have a letter for you, which, with my usual care, I 
have carried all day in my side-pocket. Your father 
sent it by the book-keeper, who gave it to me this 
morning.” 

‘‘ Gave it to you ?” 

Why should he not give it to me, pray? Am 
not a safe repository ?” 1^ 

^^Of course you are, Mr. Inquisitor; but please let 
me have the letter. I am so anxious to hear from poor, 
lonesome papa.” 

Hastily returning to her room, she read the letter, 
which was in part as follows : | 

“ Darling Daughter, — It was a strange wbim on the part of 
Mr. Hardwick to request me to send one of the ledgers and other 
account-books, together with Smith, so that he could go over 


ALVIN SMITH. 


27 

them with the book-keeper and straighten out some matters that 
are somewhat mixed. That is a strange way for Hardwick to 
take an outing. He really needs rest, but this does not seem to 
be the way to get it. I shall miss Smith greatly. The fellow is 
my right hand ; but then this is not a busy season of the year, 
so I can spare him; and it may be all for the best. You know 
the maxim, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.^ 
Try to encourage Hardwick to rest. He has been a hard worker 
always, but why he still continues to work so, when he has no 
one to leave his large fortune to, is beyond my comprehension. 

“ Your Father.’^ 

As Grace closed the letter, Hardwick entered. Look- 
ing quizzingly in his face, she said, Up here to work, 
are you ? Sent for the books and book-keeper. Mr. 
Hardwick, I j)rotest r 

I too,^^ was the laconic reply. We will put our 
work off, and go in with all our might for recreation. 
Please be ready early to-inorrow morning for a row 
on the lake.^^ 

With whom 
With me.^^ 

But you are not an oarsraan.^^ 

“ We will take Smith along; he is a master at the 
oar, and heaven knows what he is not master of? I 
may conclude to try my hand at the trolling-hook, and 
you probably know the bass are early risers, and gen- 
erally make their breakfast before people of our de- 
generate days are up. We must try to be with them 
before they get their breakfast.” 


28 


STOLEN STEPS, 


CHAPTER III. 

FISHING. 

This is awful nice/’ exclaimed Grace, as she sat 
in the prow of the boat facing the oarsman, Mr. Smith, 
and the pro tern, fisherman, Mr. Hardwick, seated in 
the stern, troll ing-line in hand. 

see nothing ^ awful’ about it,” said Hardwick, 
while he critically but admiringly eyed the fair young 
lady. 

Mr. Hardwick, you are cruel,” she retorted, with a 
pretty pout. ‘^Strike that little word ^ awful’ from 
my vernacular, and you would well-nigh deprive me 
of speech. Why, sir, I do believe, if you had your 
way, you would have the inhumanity to exclude the 
pet pug from ^ My Lady’s boudoir.’ ” 

The sun had just issued from his gold-curtained 
pavilion in the Orient and extended his happy good- 
morning greeting to the awakening forest and lake, j 
From the wooded amphitheatral shore there stole a ! 
fragrance so delicious and delicate that one might j 
fancy it was emitted by the heaven-scented robe of the I 
regnant queen of summer, who had chosen this en- j 
chanting, forest-girded lake for her retreat during her 
brief reign in the beautiful Northland. 

Though in his lively fancy Alvin had, times with- 
out number, conjured the form of the girl now so 


FISHING, 


29 


bewitchingly facing him from her perch in the prow of 
the boat, and had felt no embarrassment in the presence 
of the apparition, he found her actual presence in that 
attitude abashed him, and felt an awkward inability at 
first to adjust himself to the novel and delightful situa- 
tion ; for it was delightful, no matter how embarrassing. 

As the boat sped over the water, Hardwick was all 
attention to his trolling-line. This,’^ said he, ‘^is 
not my way of fishing : I prefer the old-fashioned hook 
and line. One holding the fishing-rod can feel what 
the fish are doing. Nothing is so agreeable as the 
sensation of a good ‘ bite,’ but this I find is a matter- 

of-fact, monotonous business of Hold on. Smith ! 

I do believe I’ve got one ! Sure as you live, I have !” 

Drawing in his line excitedly, Hardwick was de- 
lighted to find on his hook a plump and very lively 
bass. More were taken in rapid succession, and, as the 
boat approached Richland Point Landing, Grace noticed 
a gradual relaxation of Mr. Hardwick’s care-worn 
features, as he took in fish after fish with the enthu- 
siasm of a Walton. It seemed to her that his face, 
emerging for the time from the shadow that habitually 
clouded it, was of rare brightness, disclosing an ex- 
pression of happy abandon that must have been char- 
acteristic before some untold shock had supplanted it 
with the sad, stern look that now nearly always appeared. 
She thought to herself, Could only that natural, happy 
expression be continued, what a fascinating man he 
would be.” 

While Smith entered fully into the excitement of 
the occasion, he could not abstain from making the 
face of the young lady in the prow of the boat a study. 

3 * 


30 


STOLEN STEPS. 


When he noticed with what interest she, on her part, 
studied the face of Hardwick as he took in the fishes, 
he would have given a great deal to have been able 
to fish out some of the thoughts that were disporting 
themselves in the current of her mind. 

As they approached the landing, the voice of little 
Howard Wilmot was heard above the murmur of the 
lake, ^^Mr. Hardwick, mamma has come 

That is good news, ray boy. Now, Grace, we will 
pull up, and my word for it, Mrs. Wilmot will take 
our fish and have them dressed and served in a style 
no French cook can beat.’^ Gallantly he helped her 
from the boat, and Smith saw, with anything but 
pleasure, a mutual look that told only too plainly that 
the bass were not the only game for which Hardwick 
had been playing his line. They love each other,^^ 
he mused to himself ; and though he had only the day 
before resolved to relinquish the vain dream that had 
so long haunted him, the resolution was forgotten. He 
was madly jealous, and neither forest, lake, nor any- 
thing on earth could please him now. In vain Grace 
tried to rally him as she stood by his side at the land- 
ing. She could not forget the revelation he had made 
in the impromptu utterance, under the shadow of the 
forest, on the previous evening. 

‘‘ Bless the boy V’ said Hardwick, as little Howard 
assisted him in gathering up the fishes in the boat; 
^^your mamma will be just the person to do justice to 
these beauties when she gets them in her kitchen, won’t | 
she, little Trot ?” j 

You bet r 

Hut tut ! young man. Your mamma did not get 


FISHING. 


31 


here any too soon, if that is the slang talk you have 
been learning. Come along; we must find her.’^ OflF 
he darted with the boy and the fishes, leaving Grace to 
the tender mercy of Smith. 

Why didn’t she go with him ?” mused the young 
man. 

‘‘ Why is he so specially anxious to see that widow ?” 
mused the maiden. 

‘‘WTiat is the next thing on our programme, Mr. 
Smith ?” 

The atmosphere grew sensibly warmer. 

“ To tell the truth. Miss Putnam, while it may not be 
to my credit to say it, this rowing, to which I have not 
for some time been accustomed, has really tired me out, 
and just now the most agreeable act would be one of 
repose.” 

As he spoke. Smith pointed to a rustic seat under a 
maple. Charming,” was the response. After labor 
rest is sweet.” 

Seated beside the divinity of his adoration. Smith 
felt a sensation quite new and agreeable. As they 
looked around and took in the delightful landscape, 
something of its witchery glowed in the countenance of 
the fair enchantress who had charmed the young man 
into forgetfulness of all things, except the bliss of the 
situation in which he was, at least for the time, placed. 
His conversation was unconstrained, and was of that 
old school-day familiarity that she remembered with 
such pleasure. 

His isolated and studious life had rendered him 
thoughtful. He was original, and therefore entertaining 
to one who was capable of understanding subjects out- 


32 


STOLEN STEPS. 


side of the threadbare topics that make up the stock 
out of which the pretentious but shallow mimics of the 
flippant conversationalists of society draw their meagre 
supplies. Such persons would have voted Smith a bore. 
All things bore them that involve the necessity of 
thinking, that they may understand what is said. 

Had Alvin possessed the literal power of inspecting 
the thoughts and fancies that were idealized in the cur- 
rent of the mind of the girl then at his side, he would 
have been moved with wonder, and led to institute a 
critical inquiry into himself to ascertain what it could 
be that so greatly magnified his merits as they were 
seen through her eyes. Perhaps he would have been 
led to inspect more minutely the fancies and feelings 
that animated that mysterious current of her mind, and 
made the discovery that love was the lens through which 
tliose tender eyes looked upon him ; for love is a power- 
ful lens, and so transparent is it that the person affected 
fails to realize its existence, and indulges in the fond 
delusion that the person it magnifies is seen with the 
naked, normal eye. Blessed the lover who fails to dis- 
cover this illusion after the idealities of blissful court- 
ship have been superseded by the trying realities of 
matrimonial life. 

It is wonderful how soon young people of the opposite 
sex and of congenial disposition pass the border of con- 
ventionality, and converse with a confidence and freedom 
that would shock Mrs. Grundy. 

It was real good of Mr. Hardwick to give you a 
chance to escape the confining duties of the hot city, and 
come up here and recuperate,’^ said Grace. 

‘^He has a big heart, Miss Putnam. In him the 


FISHING. 


33 


stern granite of hard business enterprise is veined with 
the pliable, virgin gold of unostentatious charity and 
kindness. In the struggle of business competition he 
is the granite rock, but with his subordinates he is a 
veritable father 

“ Do you know, Mr. Smith, he has always seemed 
like a father to me. I am truly glad he has impressed 
you with the same feeling. Papa writes that he wanted 
him to send those dreadful account-books by you, so 
that he and you can go over them together. Such work 
must be awful wearisome and wearing,’^ 

It is not the work. Miss Putnam, but the place 
that plays the mischief. The high stone and brick 
walls and the stone pavements of the city not only 
exclude the healthy earth but the pure atmosphere, 
and in its place we have a bake-oven, filled with hot, 
impure air, in which we are obliged to spend our time 
during the dog-days. Nothing but the iron constitu- 
tion of the race enables people to survive such expos- 
ure. Little work will be required here, where any 
amount might be performed without hurting one. To 
me this seems like a new world. I can even fancy it 
is what Paradise was before man became a ravenous, 
insatiable beast bent on destroying all of Nature’s 
grand, beautiful works, in the production of which 
millions of years were required, in order that he — this 
inflated bubble on the stream of time — may be able to 
say, ^ I am possessed of property estimated to be worth 
in dollars one hundred thousand,’ or, perchance on rare 
occasions, he may be able to say, ‘ I am worth a round 
million.’ ” 

Just a little too cynical, Mr. Smith, in your allu- 


34 


STOLEN STEPS, 


sion to gold-getters ; but your ideas of this place are 
identical with mine, and even your reference to Para- 
dise was anticipated by your humble servant, for when 
I saw Mr. and Mrs. Richland walking in the tranquil 
shadows of these lovely maples, and everything around 
them so rural and inviting, and heard the birds, appar- 
ently without fear, carolling in the boughs of the trees, 

I could but recall the Garden of Eden and its primi- 
tive inhabitants. What a shame it is that, while nature 
WOOS the denizens of the city to enchanting retreats 
like this, so few have the ability to yield to the charmer 
and enjoy her smiles and comforts. It seems to me 
the city is the hot-house where all things are forced 
and abnormal, and where art has developed tastes and 
occupations so unnatural and exacting that real enjoy- 
ment is impossible. How delightful it would be to 
restore the country home and country atmosphere to 
the millions who swelter in the cities during the sum- 
mer.’’ 

‘‘ Your ideas are the fruitful theme of philanthro- 
pists,” answered Alvin. The massing of millions of 
people in the modern city is but a phase in the progress 
of our race to better the conditions of life. In this 
country, in particular, the vast surplus of wealth is 
directed to the improvement of transportation and to 
the betterment of the condition of the masses. Science 
has taken hold of the sewers and ventilators, of the 
tenement-house and water-supply, and has so wonder- 
fully improved the condition of the dwellers in cities 
that the percentage of mortality is now vastly greater 
in the country than in the city. Electricity has come |[| 
to the aid of man in furnishing motive-power for 


FISHING, 


35 


trail -sportation ; and we have reason to believe that your 
suggestion of country life to the persons doing business 
or working in the city will be realized by extending 
cheap and rapid transportation to the country. I con- 
fess I was too cynical in my allusion to money-getters, 
for some of them have been public benefactors. Such 
a man is our own venerable citizen, who has established 
that most beautiful Botanic Garden in St. Louis, which 
will transmit his name to posterity 

Thus, from matters of gravest interest to the flimsy 
sweet nothings that coy, dainty love feeds upon, Alvin 
and the maiden, mindless of time, passed the morning 
in blissful unconsciousness of the existence of other 
persons than themselves. True, they talked of persons, 
places, and things, but in a way that presented them 
as mere abstractions. They were at last aroused to 
cognition of other real persons by the appearance of 
Hardwick, Mrs. Wilmot, and her little boy. On in- 
troducing Alvin to the widow, Hardwick said, — 

‘‘ We are indebted to him for the enjoyment of the 
morning boating, and, if you are put to extra trouble 
on account of the fish, he is responsible, for I assure 
you that without Smith we would have been without 
bass.’’ 

‘^The responsible party, Mrs. Wilmot, is Mr. Hard- 
wick. To him I am indebted for this rare privilege 
of enjoying companionship with Nature in her most 
beautiful and attractive appearance.” 

I suspect,” said the widow, with an arch smile. 
Dame Nature made the inanimate attractions of the 
place mere decorations of the animate creation, in the 
person of one of those Graces that transform the in- 


36 


STOLEN STEPS, 


animate landscape, by their presence, into something of 
themselves, which is altogether prepossessing and com- 
panionable — to a young man/^ 

This she said as she approached the girl, who had 
risen, and impressed on her lips a kiss so manifestly 
expressive of genuine affection that Alvin at once 
endorsed her judgment and fine taste. It was, how- 
ever, the extremity of exasperation when he was sub- 
jected to the ordeal of seeing Hardwick, with the most 
perfect nonchalance, follow the example of the widow. 


SCIENTISTS, 


37 


CHAPTER IV. 

SCIENTISTS. 

It was noon, and all repaired to the cottage except 
the widow, who excused herself as she sought the 
kitchen in the rear. Her maid of the Emerald Isle 
had already completed the work of preparing the sub- 
stantial lunch that was spread in the genial shade of an 
adjacent maple. 

Mr. Richland was out when the parties entered the 
capacious, cool cottage parlors, but he entered soon after, 
with the jocular remark that he found his hired help 
more entertaining than his papers and books. Mrs. 
Wilmot entered also, cool and fresh as the morning, 
with no fret or worry of the kitchen in her genial face, 
as she announced lunch. 

We must wait for the help,” said her father, authori- 
tatively. 

Oh, papa,” remonstrated the widow. Could you 
not for this once give up your dreadfully disagreeable 
principle of equality, and let the ‘ help ^ wait till our 
guests are served ?” 

Daughter, you astonish me. Did you ever know 
me to yield a principle to gratify the demands of a de- 
praved taste ? They are our equals. It is all cant to 
talk about the dignity of labor, while in our social circle 
we ignore the existence of the laborer. When America 
4 


38 


STOLEN STEPS. 


relegated George III. and his minions to the old world 
of consuming standing armies and hereditary nobility, 
she crowned her humblest citizen, and proclaimed the 
nobility of man. The laborer, no less than the em- 
ployer, is of this royal house, destined to rule himself, 
and by this simple rule dominate and rule the world.^^ 
Did you tell them, papa, that we have company 
‘‘Of course not; the laborer is not to be shunned 
because of his garb. It is his badge of honor.^^ 

While Mr. Richland was distracting and astonishing 
his company with this communistic harangue, a clatter 
of merry voices was heard outside, and presently two 
of the comeliest damsels entered that ever distracted the 
heart of man. They were each clad in coarse but neatly- 
fitting gowns ; soft leather gloves ornamented their hands, 
while their heads were surmounted with broad -brimmed 
chip hats. The visitors could readily see they were 
subject to no constraint in entering, while the graceful 
movements and manner of these maidens in wooLsey 
dresses and chip hats told of culture and refinement. 

Smith had seen little of the country, and nothing of 
the wild Northwest, and he was wonderfully impressed 
with the strikingly-intelligent faces and graceful forms 
and manners of these daughters of toil. The elder of I' 
the twain particularly interested him. She was rather ' 
above the medium height, and there was something in ^ 
her open, bright, winsome face that was more charming 
than mere physical beauty, while physical beauty was ! 
by no means lacking, but in her case this was a matter j 
of second importance ; it was the enchanting spirit that ! 
found expression in her sky-blue eyes that so riveted | 
his attention to this marvellous wild-flower of the for- 


SCIENTISTS. 39 

est, so he hardly noticed her younger sister, who could 
not have been more than seventeen. 

In the persons of these working-girls Grace and Hard- 
wick were astonished to recognize the daughters of their 
host. With a humorous smile he introduced them to 
Smith, and as the elder girl recognized the young man, 
there was the slightest blush perceptible in her blonde 
face, for she did not fail to catch his admiring eye. 
The blind boy^^ had shot one of his delicate arrows ; 
so very delicate was it that if it really entered any heart 
it made no wound. It rested there as if it had grown 
in the place as the nerves grow and become a part of it. 
Such an arrow can no more be plucked out than can be 
the nerves of that vital organ. Sweet, lovely maiden, 
if indeed this arrow has lodged in thy unconscious heart, 
what a reckless act on the part of the mischief-making 
archer ! How can thy love ever be requited by one 
already in the very delirium of madness, caused by an- 
other arrow from the quiver of this apparently omni- 
present disturber of human hearts? 

After the ^^help’^ had retired and made a hasty 
toilet, the party adjourned to the lunch-table under the 
maple. At the table, the elder of the two sisters last 
introduced to the reader was seated by Mrs. Wilmot, 
while Smith and Grace sat opposite them. Smith 
could but note a striking resemblance in the faces of 
I these two sisters, and at the same time a marked in- 
, dividuality in each. When in repose their faces were 
. so white as to be almost colorless, but in neither was 
there a paleness produced by ill-health. The wavy, 
I heavy hair of the widow was dark-auburn, while that 
I of Josephine was so light that, with eyes of the azure 


40 


STOLEN STEPS, 


hue of the cloudless morn, she was a pronounced blonde. 
In their faces was a slight suggestion of the rich, warm 
blood that pulsed beneath the marble-like exterior, and 
imparted a delicate floridity when they were animated 
by conversation. 

The widow’s lips were full, with just enough pro- 
trusion of the under one to betray a marvellous richness 
of color, as if ripe and ready for the warm kiss of 
love. Unnoted are the garnered jewels gathered in 
the happy past of those women who, in the bright 
morning of promise, are doomed to put on the weeds 
of widowhood. How oftep does the bloom and beauty 
that glorifies their after-life owe perpetuity to the unseen 
currents in the shrine of memory that lave the heart. 

More than once, as they sat at the table, Grace, with 
uneasy glance, perceived that Alvin was decidedly 
charmed by the blue-eyed maiden he faced ; and she 
was more than ever impressed with the conviction that 
the heart of Hardwick was enmeshed by the auburn 
locks of the widow of the rose-tinted lip. 

And this was what the inquisitive Alvin might have 
seen in the current of the mind of the fair young lady 
at his side, had he possessed the requisite faculty : I 
am the foot-ball of fickle fortune. Mrs. Wilmot would 
make a fitting wife ; she is more suited in every way 
than I am, except, perhaps, in the matter of love. In 
that, my heart tells me, none are my superiors. I love 
him so well that it will make me happy to have him 
recover from that distress that saddens his life. I 
think Mrs. Wilmot has already succeeded in restoring 
him. She is a sweet woman, and I don’t know how he 
can help loving her. Smith ? Bah ! I am indeed a 


SCIENTISTS. 


41 


goose. What is he to me, or I to him ?” In a minor 
key a response forced itself to her consciousness : 

Everyth ing.^^ It was so decisive that it startled her, 
and with a tinge of jealousy she marked the spell that 
for the time entranced the young man aforesaid. She 
felt a repugnance for young ladies with heaven- 
tinted eyes, but could not deny the potency of such a 
person. She even regretted that her own eyes were 
not of like exquisite color and power. Quite uncon- 
scious was the simple-hearted Smith of the havoc he 
was making. He marked only the growing charms of 
Josephine, nor dreamed that he was himself the central 
sun round which two hearts were for the time revolv- 
ing, and that, if Josephine looked unusually bright and 
fascinating, it was in a measure the result of the illu- 
mining power of this dominating sun. 

‘^Mr. Richland,^^ said Hardwick, as he picked a 
bone from a tempting morsel of fish, you said, a little 
while ago, that it was your rule to have the ^ help’ 
with you at table. You have illustrated your consistency 
by having two of these indispensable members of society 
here ; but, I think, I am not mistaken when I say there 
is a third, in the form of a comely, fine-formed lady of 
Irish and, doubtless, noble pedigree, whose dainty fin- 
gers manipulated the knife that dressed these delicious 
fish. Why are the two called, and not the third 

My province extends not to the kitchen,” answered 
the host. That you should ask the question, evinces 
a painful ignorance of the laws governing ^domestic 
relations.’ ” Taking a second cut of fish, he continued, 
changing the subject, This bass is fine, and no mis- 
take. I think there is no better meat when it is prop- 
4 * 


42 


STOLEN STEPS. 


erly cooked fresh from the cool northern waters, espe- 
cially when the cook is Mrs. Richland^s prime minister/’ 
and he inclined his head gracefully in the direction of 
the superb widow. 

“ I want to know more about this new departure of 
yours, Mr. Richland/’ said Grace. ^^Mrs. Wilmot is 
not only a beautiful and graceful pillar upon which the 
economy of the kitchen may repose, but one whose 
efforts are manifested in such a way as to give us all 
enjoyment who partake of her viands at this time. 
What, pray, is the service to which you have devoted 
these two younger daughters ?” 

They are my wood-choppers.” 

I don’t understand,” answered Grace. 

Doubtless not. You see they are devoted scientists. 
First it was geology. Many hammers have they ruined 
in the breaking of stone ; but, as in their wandering in 
the out-of-door life physical vigor was acquired along 
with scientific knowledge, I did not regret the loss of 
the hammers. They next took to botany : for miles 
around you will find the mutilated flowers and plants, 
victims of their heartless investigations. From flowers 
they took to trees, and with the idea of studying the 
structure of ray maples, they have taken a contract to 
chop them down and work them up into cord-wood, for j 
which I am to pay them one hundred dollars per cord. j 
The groves were not only God’s ^ first temples / they j 
have ever been the veil woven by God to shield the 
face of the earth from the heat of the sun and preserve 
moisture. The clouds are their children. Woe to the 
people whose short-sighted policy destroys these benefi- 
cent parents. The just recompense will be a desert 


SCIENTISTS, 


43 


land. The glorious maples of Richland Point encum- 
ber several hundred acres of valuable agricultural land. 
Should I consult the usual greed of this destroying 
age, I would transform them into firewood and sell 
them for nearly as much as the land originally cost 
me, and the land would be worth more for agricultural 
purposes than it would sell for now. I felt that these 
young ladies would be safe to intrust with the axe. 
In the interest of science I was willing to sacrifice a 
few maples. When I made the contract, I did not 
think the draft on my bank account would be serious, 
but if they keep on as they have begun, heaven knows 
how I will fare.’^ 

‘‘ Good for the girls,’^ exclaimed Grace. I should 
like to ^go snacks^ with them. The idea of a lady 
chopping cord-wood ! Why, it would be the ruin of 
even a novel-writer to suggest such a possibility.^^ 

Go in, Grace,^^ said Hardwick ; if Mr. Richland 
is willing to risk the destruction of his entire forest, I 
am willing to subscribe one-third of the stock to meet 
expenses.^^ 

i Won^t that be jolly !” exclaimed Ruth, the younger 
' sister. 

All right,” said Richland ; but take special no- 
tice; there is to be no sub-contracting. The work 
must be done by yourselves ; but while it is going on, I 
will agree to board Grace the same as the rest of my 
I help.” 

I ‘^Mrs. Richland,” said Hardwick, Josephine and 
I Ruth have been presented to us as delvers in the hearts 
I of rocks and trees in the pursuit of knowledge ; but it 
t seems to me the presiding genius of your kitchen. 


44 


STOLEN STEPS. 


designated your ^ prime minister/ is entitled to con- 
sideration ; for what is the science of plant structure 
to that of man structure? Your kitchen is the labo- 
ratory and shop in which the worker produces the ma- 
terial of which this wonderful human structure is 
physically composed, and with which the waste con- 
stantly going on is replaced. The science of preparing 
human food is most important of all, because on good 
digestion and assimilation of appropriate food depends 
a healthy liver, and the healthy or unhealthy liver may 
be the means of making the possessor a saint or a 
sinner. Your cook is the wielder of the destiny of the 
world. She is the nurse, not of the child and Invalid 
alone, but of all who subsist. In the education of 
these daughters of yours, Mr. Richland, you will have 
miserably failed if you do not place them under the 
tutelage of Mrs. Wilmot. Reformation in the kitchen 
is imperatively required. It is there the bulk of the 
substance of the earth is ignorantly wasted, and the 
health of mankind destroyed.’^ 

An eloquent advocate of my cause,’^ responded Mrs. 
Wilmot, with an approving smile. 

^^The sentiments of the speaker are sound to the 
core,^^ gravely remarked the host. With all considera- 
tion for her mother, I must say that when our daughter, 
Mrs. Wilmot, came home, some three years ago, to live 
with us, I was suffering with dyspepsia, and Mrs. Rich- 
land was in such ill-health that she was unable to look 
after the servants. Mrs. Wilmot took in the situation, 
and mother was glad enough to turn matters over to her. 
At that time there was a general state of insubordi- 
nation among the servants.^^ 

With mother’s leave,” said Mrs. Wilmot, ^^I re- 


SCIENTISTS. 


45 


paired to the kitchen, and instructed the cook how I 
wanted her to make some bread. With arms akimbo, 
she gave me a contemptuous look, and with the air of 
a queen exclaimed, ^ I want you to know, ma’am, that 
I’ve been tached once how to make bread, and I a’n’t 
goin’ to be tached agin.’ ^ Very well,’ said I ; ‘ pack up 
your kit and go where you are wanted.’ In a tower- 
ing rage, she called on mother for a ‘ character,’ and 
mother referred her to me. When she returned to the 
kitchen and found me with apron on and sleeves rolled 
up and at work, she stood and watched me in silence. 
Saying nothing, she finally turned and went out ; but I 
saw her lips quivering. I followed her to her room, 
feeling like a criminal myself. I knocked at her door; 
but there was no response. Finally, I opened it. 
There she sat on a trunk, a photograph before her, 
and tears in lier eyes. Her appearance was so forlorn 
and heart-broken that I was overcome myself. I 
felt that she was worth winning over to my side. I 
think she read my mind, for, as she wiped the great 
tears from her eyes with her apron, she sobbed, ^ Indade, 
ma’am, it isn’t a character I am afther deservin’ at all, 
at all, afther the way I talked to the likes o’ you.’ 
‘ You shall have the character, if you want it,’ said I, 
feeling something like tears in my eyes. ^ What is your 
name?’ I asked. ^Abigail Hamilton,’ she answered; 
‘ and sure it’s a name I wouldn’t for the world disgrace.’ 
Abigail is my name, and this fact drew the girl to me. 
^ Is that a photograph of your brother ?’ I asked. By the 
crimsoning of her face I knew it was not the photograph 
of a brother. ^ Where does he live ?’ I asked. ‘ Sure, 
and it’s in the auld counthry, bless its swate falds.’ 
‘ When you want your character, Abby,’ I said, ‘ let me 


46 


STOLEN STEFS. 


know ; you and I will go to work and show the folks 
from cellar to garret what can be done when mistress 
and maid are friends/ ^ The Holy Mother of God be 
your friend !’ she exclaimed, grasping my hand. ^ You 
may tach me all you want, for it’s jist the likes o’ you 
that can do it.’ From that day to this she has been 
the most willing soul that ever lived.’ ” 

Smith had been an interested listener ; but while his 
eyes were on Mrs. Wilmot during the narration of her 
story, he all the time saw Josephine. With an earnest- 
ness of which he was quite unconscious, his eyes were 
directly on her when he quoted the words of Portia, at 
the close of the interesting narrative, So shines a good 
deed in a naughty world.” 

His manners and expression so impressed her that 
she could not rid herself of the effect. That night he 
was in her mind when she sank to sleep, and in her 
dream there appeared to her a young man identical in 
form, feature, and manner with Smith. She saw him 
writing a sonnet ‘^To Josephine”; she looked over his 
shoulder as he wrote, and line after line, sparkling 
with the richest gems of poesy, of which her name 
was the burden, appeared upon the page. When she 
awakened, she was still able to recall the words of the 
sonnet. She wondered at the strange circumstance, 
when she remembered that she could not have written 
a single couplet. She asked herself the startling ques- 
tion, Who wrote the sonnet?” for sonnet it was, with 
rhyme and rhythm as complete as poet’s art could make 
it. In the morning there was an abstractedness in her 
manner that led her mother to remark, I am afraid 
the girls are carrying their freak of wood-chopping too 
far. Josephine don’t look as well as I could wish.” 


ELYSIUM— DREAM SONNET. 


47 


CHAPTER V. 

ELYSIUM — DREAM SONNET. 

After lunch, Alvin was conducted by Richland to 
his library, where the two spent a good portion of the 
afternoon. Richland had brought to the place quite 
a number of volumes pertaining to the philosophical 
consideration of law and government, which were in 
line with the course of reading Alvin had been engaged 
in, when he had leisure, for the previous two or three 
years. Speaking on the subject to Mr. Richland, he 
said, I have no notion of ever practising law, but I 
have an idea that no one is fit to do business or dis- 
charge his duties of citizenship who is ignorant of the 
general principles of law and government.^^ 

You are right, Mr. Smith. Nothing is more con- 
tracting and destructive of one’s capacity to look at 
things with a clear and comprehensive understanding 
than the exclusive pursuit of one’s business, be it law, 
medicine, theology, trade, or science ; such a person 
wears himself into a rut, so that his line of vision 
becomes circumscribed, and if he continues long enough 
in this exclusive employment, he sinks out of sight of 
the objects of public interest which are not in the imme- 
diate rut into which he has worked himself. Specialists 
may successfully restore sight by removing a cataract, 
but they cannot frame a statute that will meet the 


48 


STOLEN STEPS. 


requirements of the age in restraining railroad discrim- 
ination. Edison may invent a phonograph, but he 
cannot devise a system of intercourse between the 
capitalist and the laborer by which mutual good-will 
will take the place of the alienation wrought by the 
innovating hand of the inventor of labor-saving 
machinery.” 

Richland found in Smith a bright, modest, exceed- 
ingly well-informed young man, and as in the progress 
of conversation theme after theme was called out, he 
discovered to his satisfaction that he had found a 
foeman worthy of his steel one who could grasp and 
handle the various subjects proposed with a high degree 
of intelligence and acumen. 

The afternoon was spent in conversation and reading, 
and they were surprised to learn, when the young ladies 
broke in upon them, that the day was so far spent. The 
young ladies asked Smith to join with them in a stroll, 
but before leaving the library Josephine put both arms 
round the neck of the old gentleman, who bent his 
delighted eyes upon her, and impressed a kiss on the 
fair, peachy cheek she turned to him for that purpose. 
Smith wondered if a more lovely picture of beauty and 
devotion existed in the universe. 

After our visitors had supped at the hospitable board 
of Mrs. Richland, Mr. Hardwick, with a quiet, business 
expression, said, — 

Smith, the hard work of the day must have been 
so exhaustive that I would be imposing on you were I 
to add the burden of my weight to that of Grace in 
the boat with which you are to return in charge of that 
young lady. Mrs. Wilmot has kindly tendered me a 


ELYSIUM— DREAM SONNET. 49 

seat in her phaeton, and, as you see, she is ready to take 
me in charge.” As he spoke, the amiable widow came 
out apparelled for the drive, and the vehicle was driven 
up. As the two entered it the setting sun cast his 
golden rays on their faces, and Grace noticed, with a 
^eer mingling of pleasure and regret, that the face of 
Hardwick glowed with a sense of enjoyment she had 
never before observed to so completely possess him. 

Heaven be thanked for widows,” mused Alvin, as 
he bent his steps with Grace and the entire Eichland 
family— minus the widow— to the landing. There 
shaking him heartily by the hand, Eichland said, “I 
confess to you, Mr. Smith, that I am not able to rise to 
the required height of ideality to enjoy this retirement, 
in which Nature plays all the parts and leaves me little 
to do but look on. I prefer a companion to converse 
with on subjects that are usually tabooed. I find you 
in sympathy with me, and I wish you to come over 
and make this your home while you remain at the 
lake/^ 

There is something radically wrong about a young 
man when he fails to appreciate with pleasure the 
enjoyment he could confer on old people. The single 
day Smith had spent with Mr. Eichland had enabled 
him to find in him one of those rare specimens of 
humanity who, through all the struggles of competition 
in business and the drudgery of a long professional 
liie, had retained a sunny heart. 

“Thank you,” he responded, with feeling. “If it 
be in my power in the slightest degree to add to your 
enjoyment, I shall be glad to do so ; for the entertain- 
ment you have given me to-day has been so out of 

C d 5 


60 


STOLEN STEPS. 


the routine of my life that I can hardly realize my 
identity/^ 

I can vouch for your identity/^ said Grace, with a 
bewitching smile, already on her perch in the stern of 
the boat. 

It was high time for the truant to be recalled to this 
divinity, for it must be confessed there was a counter- 
charm in those wonderful eyes of Josephine that did 
not impress Grace pleasurably. 

When Smith took the oars and got his boat well 
under way, and was alone on the waves with Grace, he 
wondered that he could be so weak and fickle as to have 
for a moment preferred Josephine to this lovely being 
on her rocking perch in front of him, holding the helm. 
How the waves rollicked with the evening wind. How 
the boat joined in the sport as it tossed and pitched on 
their swelling crests. After a little while the wind and 
the wave sank into sleep, and the harvest moon and 
myriad stars tremulously begemmed the placid couch 
of waters on which they slumbered. 

The forest bordering the lake held each leaflet in 
reverent silence, while ministering Night baptized it 
afresh with the life-giving dew of heaven. 

It was the witching hour of young Love’s dream,, 
and the two in the boat sat in silent musing. The oars 
rested in Alvin’s hands, refusing to disturb the stillness 
of the enchanting hour. How,” ’twas thus the young 
man mused, how could I have been for a moment 
drawn from this central luminary of my universe? 
Josephine may charm, but Grace is light and warmth 
to my soul. The tides of my being ebb and flow at 
her sweet will. Will the time ever come when she will 


ELYSWM^DREAM SONNET. 


51 


consent to sit at the helm of my life-bark? It is a 
delicious dream. When I awaken she will have passed 
from my existence. No; that cannot be. No one can 
ever divest me of the memory of this enchanting dream, 
if dream it must be, and only that.’^ So in the sweet 
thrall of love he communed with himself. The maiden 
ceased to be a creature of clay. She was an ethereal 
being nestling with his own rapt spirit in the Paradise 
of Love. He was himself a dual being. Bodily, he 
resumed the oars; but the spirit continued to bask in 
the sunshine and warmth of this affinity which had 
transported him to elysium. If he conversed, the 
words came without volition, and he could never recall 
them. There was between them a converse in which 
the lips played no part, and in which silence was elo- 
quence. 

There is an undefinable power of one of fine, strong 
mental organism over another when no counter-influence 
prevails. Such a power Alvin exercised over Grace on 
this occasion. While she was his senior by at least a 
year, she was his junior in all that constituted maturity 
of mind and soul. She had been reared in affluence 
and devotedly served, so that self-effort had never de- 
veloped her faculties as it had developed those of the 
washerwoman’s son. In his isolation his companion- 
ship had been with himself. Self-development had 
been his ambition. In character he was not unlike the 
landscape, as it appeared at that hour on the silent, still 
waters of the lake, which mirrored the star-robed dome 
of heaven ; the real and the imaginary combined to 
infuse his mind with the poetry as well as the prose of 
existence. Experience and disappointment had not 


52 


STOLEN STEPS, 


sobered his fancy nor veiled the prophetic eye of hope. 
Grace saw in him the budding promise of the highest 
manhood, and admired and — was it only a fancy in the 
thought that she loved him? But she thought she 
loved Hardwick, too ; and now she loved Alvin, and 
him only ; she thought of no one else, cared for no one 
else. Her delighted spirit rose on the wings that bore 
up his own, and while she sat and talked with him, the 
spirit of each in congenial sympathy hovered over the 
elysium that youth and inexperience conjure into exist- 
ence, but in which, alas, human feet never tread. 

That night, when Alvin retired to rest, he was still 
so under the intoxication of the sweet hours on the 
lake with Grace that it was long before he could sleep ; 
still the vision of the loved one was before him, rocked 
in the tossing boat or reposing in tranquil peace ; and in 
her transparent spirit he saw mirrored his own heaven 
no less clearly than he saw the starry dome of night 
mirrored in the bosom of the unrufSed lake. Fancy 
succeeded fancy, melting anon into dreams. Again 
the boat rocked and tossed. But a change came o’er 
the spirit of his dream. The waves swelled into heav- 
ing billows, and when he looked for the charming face 
of Grace at the stern of the boat, she was no longer 
there, but in her place sat Josephine. Firmly she 
grasped the helm and held the boat in position, to 
safely ride the great waves that beat and surged about 
them. Hard he pulled at the oars, and swift and safely 
sped the bark. The excitement and exertion awakened 
him. So vivid was the dream that the vision of Jo- 
sephine, heroically holding the helm and guiding the 
storm-tossed boat, haunted him as something real. He 


ELYSIUM— DREAM SONNET, 53 

sighed with remorse when lie reflected that, even in 
dreams, this acquaintance of a day should replace the 
girl he had adored for years. 

Again he slept and dreamed. He was this time 
alone in his mother’s cottage by the southern river. 
Josephine was by his side. Grace was there too, but 
Josephine stood between. Hand-in-hand they left him, 
laughing merrily at his perplexity. Josephine returned 
alone^ and as he looked in her eyes there was a spell in 
the heaven- blue orbs that so entranced him he could 
have fallen on his knees in adoration, had she not 
vanished. Then, moved by a strange inspiration, he 
sat down at his table and commenced writing a sonnet 

To Josephine,” though he had never indulged in that 
kind of weakness before. As he wrote, a beautiful 
one returned and looked over his shoulder. In the 
transport of joy her presence created he awoke, and 
Hardwick was shaking him by the shoulder^ admonish- 
ing him that he had overslept himself. 


5 * 


54 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER VI. 

QUANDARY. 

Mr. Thomas Putnam slept late the morning Mr. 
Hardwick and his young companions made the expedi- 
tion to Richland Cottage, the incidents of which were 
related in the last chapter. 

It cannot be said that the day proved agreeable to 
Thomas. In the first place, he was chagrined that Mr. 
Hardwick had omitted to include him in the select 
company; in the next place, he was disappointed in 
the conduct of Miss Grace in preferring the compan- 
ionship of Hardwick; for, truth to tell, Thomas imag- 
ined he was in love with that young lady, and had 
indulged the flattering delusion that her gentle heart 
beat in unison with his own. 

His ill-humor was in a measure appeased, when he 
looked in the mirror and saw his own immaculate form 
therein imaged. When he smiled complacently, the 
image smiled complacently also. As he beheld the 
Adonis-like form and gave his raven bangs the finish- 
ing dainty adjustment, he felt a conviction that, in his 
personal conformation and adornment. Nature and Art 
had combined to develop a masterpiece. Without a 
doubt, the little love he could bestow on any one 
besides himself was felt for Grace Putnam. In his 
ardent self-love he could not imagine that that young 


qv AND ARY, 55 

lady would not indorse his own first choice of himself, 
and consent to occupy the second place in his heart. 

After passing a long, dreary day, in the evening he 
sought the promenade of the veranda. This was just 
in time to see Hardwick and tlie widow drive up in 
the phaeton. The escape from his own companionship 
was a relief, and as Hardwick introduced him to the 
blooming widow at his side, his critical eye took her 
measurement, and he was pleased to pass a highly 
favorable opinion. He asked himself the question, 
“ Who is this mysterious woman, with such wealth 
and ripeness, of ravishing beauty, who has captured 
the redoubtable Hardwick 

He would have been glad to have quizzed Hardwick 
when the widow had taken her leave, but he was not 
a man with whom he felt he could safely take such 
liberties. He felt a reasonable confidence in this new 
ally, for, with those auburn locks, with the inviting, 
graceful curve of the rosy lip, and the divine smile 
that irradiated her faultless face. Miss Grace Putnam 
could not compete. In his estimation, Grace was her 
superior in attractiveness, but her inferior in the art of 
winning. He realized that a widow has learned so 
much of mankind that, when she sets her cap, she is 
more capable and artful than the simple maiden. He 
would pin his faith to this new power that had ap- 
peared in the arena of love. Hardwick had long been 
in his way. ‘‘Now that he has been detached, I will 
move on the works,” said Thomas, confidently, to him- 
self. He had not thought of Alvin Smith, the book- 
keeper ; yet there was something strange in the girFs 
conduct in lingering so Jong on the way with that 


56 


STOLEN STEPS. 


youth. It was hardly in keeping with one of her 
breeding and position. Long he promenaded the ve- 
randa, but no boat appeared, and, his patience becoming 
exhausted, he retired to his aristocratic quarters for the 
night. He had no knowledge when the truants actu- 
ally reached the hotel, for he had fallen into a sleep so 
profound that he knew nothing more until late the next 
morning, when he was sorely disgusted to learn that the 
voyagers of the previous morning had again gone forth, 
leaving him under the direful necessity of keeping 
company with himself for another dismal day. 

It cannot be denied that the hour was unseasonably 
late when Grace and Alvin reached the hotel landing. 
They could not be persuaded by Hardwick, who good- 
naturedly met them and gallantly helped the girl to the 
shore, and held her hand long enough to get an arm 
around her shapely waist and his lips to her warm 
cheeks, — they could not be persuaded by Hardwick 
that the hour was so late. 

For loitering idlers,’’ said Hardwick, who have no 
higher object than that of killing time, it is a trifling 
thing whether the evening is spent in a boat or in bed, 
but for working-people it is different. How can you. 
Miss Grace, hope to earn your board, even in chopping 
cord-wood, to-morrow, when you have dissipated the 
needful hours of rest in this fashion ? And as for you, 
young man, how can you expect to have a clear head 
and steady hand with which to enter upon the duties 
of to-morrow?” 

‘^I assure you, Mr. Hardwick, I have been recu- 
perated more than you can imagine by the agreeable 
experiences of the day.” 


qUANDARY. 


57 


The day was truly a pleasant one ; but it is the 
way you have dovetailed the day into the night that 
plays the mischief with one’s nerves. It will not do at 
all, Mr. Smith ; it will shatter your constitution.” 

I appreciate the admonition, Mr. Hardwick, and 
will endeavor to reform ; but I must remind you that 
you are the author of the mischief. You gave me the 
laboring oar, and I confess the labor by moonlight is so 
agreeable that I take no note of time.” 

Permit me to call your attention to the fact that 
Time gives no notes ; he keeps an open account. Every 
act of youthful dissipation is entered in the journal, and 
carried into the ledger. Don’t think, because you feel 
no serious consequences of youthful irregularities while 
in the vigor of early or middle life, that no serious 
consequences need be expected. As the sap of robust 
youth and the vigor of mature life are gradually con- 
sumed by wrinkling, encroaching age, it will be found 
that ^ Old Time’ has your account in ledger and journal ; 
and if, in youth, you have drawn on your vitality and 
vigor by your irregularities of living, your draft on the 
old gentleman for needful vitality to make old age com- 
fortable will be dishonored to the extent of the overt 
drafts of earlier life. Time is your banker. See to it 
that you have as much credit on his books for what is 
so needful in the decline of life as you can. Don’t loiter 
in a tossing boat by moonlight so long that no time is 
left for sleep to minister her balm, and fit mind and 
I body for the duties of the morrow. I might add that 
I this old banker keeps the moral accounts of youth as 
well as the account of his physical acts. Here would 
be material for a sermon ; but the experience and ad- 


68 


STOLEN STEPS. 


monition of age, when held up to youth, are like water 
on the back of a duck. I cannot hope to confer any 
benefit by the sermon, and will therefore dismiss the 
congregation with my blessing.^’ 

To me, Mr. Hardwick, your admonitions are sug- 
gestive. I trust my indiscretions will never be so 
grievous as to seriously affect my account with Time. 
I must assure you, however, that if you wish to prevent 
damage you must remove me from temptation. I would 
suggest that you put me to work on the books. Idle- 
ness is the enemy of youth and the ally of the Prince 
of Darkness. Seriously, I am not discharging my duty 
to my employers/^ 

Borrow no trouble on that score, Mr. Smith. It 
is in view of the arduous labors of to-morrow that I 
lecture you for spending the time of needful rest 
in the way yon have. Be ready early to-morrow 
morning.^^ 

With pleasure. Where shall we find a convenient 
place in which to work? I will be ready with the 
books at the required tirne.’^ 

You are mistaken, sir. Little do you realize the 
gravity of the duties I shall impose upon you. You 
do not realize the importance of the contract Grace has 
entered into. Wood-chopping is hazardous. It in- 
volves dreadful danger from the falling of the trees she 
may cut down. She may not know which way to run 
when the tree commences to fall ; some one must be 
near to instruct her* This awful duty I shall impose 
upon you. The books, Mr. Smith, may be behind and 
imperfect ; they may even be lost, and the consequences 
serious ; but what are such matters compared with the 


qu AND ARY, 


59 


loss of Miss Grace ? I may add that the arduous labors 
of the three ladies of the ^ Order of the Axe’ superin- 
duce ravenous hunger, and that requires extra duty on 
the part of Mrs. Wilraot ; and she has extended a call 
I to me to temporarily abandon the tahle-dChdte and give 
her what assistance I can in providing eatables for the 
toilers. You, too, are expected and required by me, on 
behalf of the firm of which I am the accredited head, 
to lay aside all other engagements, and be on hand 
promptly at sunrise to-morrow morning, or as soon 
thereafter as the dissipation of this night will admit of, 
and we will row back to the scene of our prospective 
duties. In view of your manifest disposition to loiter 
on the way when Miss Grace is with you, I will now 
take possession of her, and bid you good-evening, 
leaving you to properly secure the boat.” 

, (Exit Mr. Hardwick and Grace.) By the steady, full 
; light of the moon, Alvin saw the arm of Hardwick pass 
round her waist as with rhythmic step they walked up 
to the hotel. 

(Smith, solus,) Can that be the taciturn, sad-faced 
Henry Hardwick ? Surely this place is enchanted, and 
the weird spell it casts has touched him. I, too, am 
transformed. Does Hardwick think that I am in- 
capable of feeling and loving? Why, in the name of 
the glorious heaven above, does he constantly place me 
in company with that girl he so dearly loves himself? 
Why did he bring me to this place, under pretence that 
he had w’ork of importance, and when I am here ready 
for work, turn me over to the sirens of this sylvan lake ? 
Why does he ride by moonlight with the beautiful 
widow, and watch till midnight for a kiss from that 


60 


STOLEN STEPS. 


creature of Paradise that but now was afloat with me 
on this enchanted lake? I give it up 

(Exit Alvin to his couch of fancies and dreams.) 

As Hardwick and Grace wended their way up the 
hill to the hotel, the young lady, still under the magical 
spell of the witching hours of night upon the lake, said 
to her companion, — 

Tell me truly, Mr. Hardwick, why did you get 
Mr. Smith here?’^ 

By the mellow light of the moon, Grace saw the 
quizzical eyes of Hardwick turn upon her as he said 
in reply, — 

To restore the young gentleman’s failing health.” 

But employers are not usually so tender in the care 
of their clerks and servants. You are a man of queer 
ideas. I suspect you had some other object. Why did 
you have him bring the books ?” 

‘‘ To get him away from them.” Still those quiz- 
zical eyes were upon her as he continued, Didn’t you 
tell me the poor fellow was overworked, and looked as 
though he needed a vacation ? Didn’t you on that occa- 
sion feel a sympathy for him as he sat, pale and languid, 
at his desk ? You were so thoughtful and sympathizing 
that it made me feel guilty, and should the young man 
have died of the exhaustion from which he was suffering, 
I felt that you could never forgive me.” 

I will try and separate the irony of your humor 
from the real benevolence of the act, and ask you another 
question. What is your opinion of widows ?” 

Jealous ! upon my soul ! I like the one we visited 
with yesterday ; didn’t you ?” 

Grace turned her eyes upon the face of the speaker, * 


qUANDARY, 


61 


trying to read by the dim light of the moon what there 
was in the heart of the man at her side, as she answered 
with tenderness, If she can make you happy, she 
will make me happy, too/^ 

Hardwick drew her closer to himself, and with a 
good-night kiss left her at the door of the hotel. 


62 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CORD-WOOD AND EGGS. 

Deep as had been her sleep, Grace awoke early enough 
to hear and enjoy the bird concert that usually com- 
menced by four in the morning : she was, in fact, aroused 
from her sleep by uneasy footsteps in an adjoining room. 
From its inmate she heard that weak cough that is so 
dispiriting to the strong and healthy, especially when 
they hear it in the silent morning hours. It is sug- 
gestive of suffering. Grace reflected that even in this 
Northern land of blue skies and lakes, of invigorating 
atmosphere and beautiful landscape, sickness and misery 
abound. “Who is this sufferer mused the girl. 
“ Of course, she is nothing to me. Each second some 
one passes the dread border, and loved ones weep in vain. 
While mine are spared I have cause to be thankful, and 
it is but wasting the draught of joy for me to seek or 
know this sufferer.’^ So she coldly reasoned ; but that 
feeble cough, that slow pace of weary step, fell on a 
sympathizing heart, and she could not disregard it. “ I 
was sick, and ye visited me not.^^ In the feeble cough 
she heard this grievous complaint preferred against her 
at her throne of conscience. The day of judgment 
dawned with the rising sun. So it seemed to her 
strangely wrought spirit as she heard this lonely suf- 
ferer. “ It is not too late to reverse the sentence,’^ she 
said. 


CORD-WOOD AND EGGS. 


63 


She arose and dressed herself hastily, and timidly 
rapped at the door of the sufferer. It was opened by 
a thin, sallow-faced, middle-aged lady, who seemed to 
be the sole occupant. I trust I am not intruding,'^ 
said Grace. I occupy the adjoining room, and you are 
my neighbor. I observe that you are in ill health, and 
I call to see if I can do anything to relieve you?’^ 

I confess,’’ answered the invalid, that the night 
has been very long and lonely. I thought day would 
never come, for there was no sleep for me. You, who 
are blessed with health, cannot realize the distress of 
sleeplessness. You are kind to call : the face of one in 
health is a comfort. I fear my restlessness was the cause 
of your early rising. It is very painful to one to be 
under the affliction of bodily ailments, but to me it is 
even more disagreeable to be the cause of distressing 
others.” 

Kindly, sympathetic words on the part of Grace 
rapidly dispelled the gloom that overshadowed the 
spirit with which she entered the sick-room, for there 
was a ready response on the part of the invalid to the 
efforts of the girl to cheer her up. They were be- 
coming acquainted with each other with mutual satis- 
faction, when a physician, living at Minneapolis, but 
spending his evenings during the heated season at the 
lake, was admitted by the invalid. 

The doctor was introduced to the new acquaintance 
by his patient, and after a few commonplace words 
Grace withdrew. I was sick, and ye visited me,” 
said the Judge upon the throne, and her heart responded, 

I am glad.” 

A company of immortal beings passed that way at 


64 


STOLEN STEPS. 


the moment, and one of them caught the expression of 
the young girPs face as she uttered these words, and, 
motioning to it, exclaimed, Most beautiful ! How 
blessed the mortal who, out of the cup of sorrow, can 
drink such beautifying wine of joy ! We, who never 
felt the pangs of distress, are denied this luxury 

Notwithstanding the failure of Alvin to rise early, 
he and his companions of the previous day were aboard 
the row-boat early enough in the morning to enable 
Hardwick to anticipate the kingly bass who was in 
quest of his breakfast, and suffered the fatal misfortune 
of mistaking the adroitly-constructed bait that flashed 
in the water at the end of Hardwick^s trolling-line for 
the genuine minnow for which he was hungering. 

Josephine and Ruth Richland awaited the visitors 
at the cottage landing. They found that the provident 
widow and her esteemed assistant had prepared break- 
fast. After partaking of it, the girls, clad in their 
coarse gray gowns (Josephine having provided one of 
her own for Grace), sallied forth to tackle the innocent 
young maples. 

Hardwick was taken under the protecting wings of 
the widow, while Richland was pleased to invite Alvin 
to accompany him to the library. 

Meanwhile, Thomas Putnam was more than ever 
disconcerted, wounded and distressed when he found, 
on rising at a late hour, that he had again been aban- 
doned to the solitude of his own company. Persons 
of extensive reading and given to thinking are able to 
entertain and even interest themselves more than others 
can interest them ; but Thomas was not such a person. 
Most of the acquaintances who had accompanied him 


CORD-WOOD AND EGGS. 


65 


to the North were enjoying themselves by rowing, 
riding, or sauntering in the forest. Thomas was not a 
congenial companion, and while he was regarded as a 
gentleman accomplished in all the elegancies of the 
fashionable world, his manner was cold and forbidding, 
and few strangers would be inclined to pass through 
the frigid atmosphere, which his presence congealed, 
for the purpose of entertainment. 

In sheer desperation he ventured upon a solitary 
stroll. The birds chirped their wild, sweet notes of 
welcome as he entered their shaded haunts, but to him 
they were vainly chirped. As he listlessly wandered, 
he hardly knew where, the sound of woodmen^s axes 
attracted his attention. Any company would be better 
than his own, and he bent his steps in the direction from 
whence the sound came. He was startled on making 
the discovery that three women, in rough, gray gowns 
and straw hats, were the wood-choppers whose axes he 
had heard ! 

And this,’^ he muttered to himself, is the boasted 
land of Northern thrift and civilization ! Women in 
the woods, with axes and maul and wedge, chopping 
and splitting cord-wood 

Even the cold blood of Thomas Putnam was stirred 
with unwonted warmth at the sight of this indignity 
heaped upon woman. It was a repetition of the bar- 
barism of mediaeval ages, when the wife of the peasant 
was harnessed with the ox to the plough. Slavery had 
disappeared from the field of his native State only to pres- 
ent itself in this debasing guise in the boasted northland 
of freedom. Determining’ to make the acquaintance of 
these unfortunate drudges, he directed his steps towards 
e 6 * 


66 


STOLEN STEPS, 


them with a vigor and animation that contrasted strongly 
with the languor of his previous listless progress. 

Grace was the first to discover the approaching 
visitor, and hurriedly informed the two sisters who he 
was, and advised them to preserve the incognito which 
their dress and employment created. She speedily 
hastened to a small pile of wood a few steps away, and 
engaged herself in carrying it to the place where the 
hundred-dollar cord was slowly but surely developing. 
Josephine and Ruth kept their broad-brimmed hats well 
over their faces and worked with a will. Each wielded 
a mallet or maul, with which they managed with finely- 
regulated precision to strike with alternate blows the 
iron wedge in the four-foot maple log which, by labori- 
ous hacking, had been cut from the trunk of a 
small tree they had felled. Knowing nothing of 
the business himself, Thomas failed to see anything 
awkward in the work or workmen, or rather, work- 
women. 

(Enter Thomas Putnam, with an amazed, disgusted 
look. The girls are so busy they seemingly do not see 
him till he speaks.) 

Thomas : Rather extraordinary work for females, 

I should say 

Josephine (with an air of indifference) : I don’t see 
anything particularly extraordinary about it. I take 
it, you cannot belong in these parts.” 

Thomas : I am very glad to say, I do not.” 

Josephine: May I inquire where you are from?” | 

Thomas: St. Louis.” ! 

Josephine: ‘^St. Louis is a fine city, I am told. The \ 
working women there do hard drudging in the hot \ 


CORD-WOOD AND BOOS, 


67 


kitchens. It must be a heavy draught on their consti- 
tutions. For my part, I greatly prefer this out-door 
work. We enjoy it.^^ 

Thomas (making furtive glances into the partically 
concealed face of Josephine) : Madam, you astonish 
me. Do you consider this suitable employment for a 
woman 

Josephine : “ My dear sir, we are creatures of con- 
ventionality. Looked upon as an occupation, I should 
regard wood-chopping almost as unobjectionable for a 
woman as that of working over the tub, as many 
women daily do, until they are prematurely worn out ; 
but as a means of obtaining moderate, healthful exer- 
cise, and earning a supply of money, give me the axe 
and the maul and wedge every time. Labor is to be 
exalted by intelligent workers. Swinging the axe, sir, 
is an art. You are to impart a spirit to the sharp, cold 
edge that will make it penetrate the log almost of its 
own volition. And then the log itself is a study that 
well repays the intelligent laborer. Look at each of 
these tell-tale rings; this is the story of the tender 
germ, the struggling plant, the sapling, and, finally, the 
majestic maple. Each circle tells of a spring-time, 
with its birds and blossoms ; a summer of deep ver- 
dure; an autumn of matured fruit; and a winter of 
slumber. And then, if you will but take one of these 
tiny chips and examine it with a microscope, you will dis- 
cover many interesting features, especially the innumer- 
able openings between the fibres, through which the 
sap is drawn by capillary attraction. How many men 
of the past have devoted the best years of their lives 
to the study of the subject of plants ! Linnaeus, of Swe- 


68 


STOLEN STEPS. 


den, the Jussieus (father and son), Candolle, and in 
our own time, Darwin, and others who are still prose- 
cuting their researches. Why, sir, I never strike an 
axe into a beautiful, curly-grained maple without a 
feeling of regret that a living structure so complicated 
and perfect should be destroyed. Tenderly I go about 
my work, and I am careful to select only the trees that 
are growing where they are already too thick.’^ 

Thomas : I gather from your conversation that you 
are possessed of superior advantages.^^ 

Josephine: Not at all, sir. In this country no one 
has any excuse to be ignorant. Especially no woman 
has. For her, there is thrown open a new world; 
countless avenues of industry invite her; art and 
science have given her her manumission papers. It 
only remains for her to ignore the frivolities of an 
obsolete age, and assert the right and display the powers 
that are hers by the laws of nature. The most power- 
ful bird in the world is the female eagle. The time 
will come, sir, when woman will occupy the same 
natural pre-eminence in the realm of humanity. Ages 
of domestic servitude and slavery have degraded her 
to the dependence of which the simpering woman of | 
the drawing-room boasts. Now she is abroad, she is 
becoming a power. Already we have the man woman^s 
tailor ; before many generations pass we will have the 
man housekeeper and the man in the children’s 
nursery. Have no fear, sir, that wood-chopping will ^ 
impair a woman’s powers. Here in the grand forest, * 
by the genial exercise of swinging the axe, I am 
strengthened for the real work of intellectual ac- 
tivity. When the vacation is over, I will be able to t 


CORD-WOOD AND EOOS. 


69 


resume my university studies with a vim and energy 
that will carry me through the term with colors fly- 
iug. 

‘^You must excuse me, sir; my work must be per- 
formed, for on the earnings of my axe I expect to have 
the means of going through the university. Come, 
Ruth, swing your maul.’^ 

Exit Thomas, while the young ladies with measured 
stroke resume the attack upon the iron wedge. To say 
that Thomas was dumfounded is to put it mildly. 
He resumed his wandering, more than ever convinced 
that the women of the North were likely to be developed 
into physical and intellectual monstrosities, before whom 
the refining influences of chivalry would go down. 

He emerged unexpectedly upon the open ground over- 
looking the lake, and in the vicinity of Richland Cot- 
tage. It was near the hour of noon, and it was with 
pleasure he stumbled upon Hardwick, who was in the 
garden in company with the charming widow, engaged 
in picking a mess of green pease. 

Upon my soul, Putnam, you take me by surprise. 
I did not know you could venture so far abroad in this 
wild wilderness exclaimed Hardwick. 

Wild or not,’^ answered the new-comer, I confess 
that I am lost.^^ 

Not now,^^ said the widow, while her under lip sank 
into that beautiful repose that invited a lovePs kiss. 

Not now,^^ responded Thomas ; and, with a sug- 
gestive accent and glance of his eyes, he added, I am 
not the one who is lost.’^ 

A slight display of blood was seen in the white, 
delicately-chiselled face of the widow as she said. 


70 


STOLEN STEPS. 


We are fortunate in having been found by you, and 
I trust you will favor us with your company at the 
mid-day lunch, or, rather, dinner; for we are old- 
fashioned people, and prefer to transform lunch into 
something more substantial/^ 

You honor me, Mrs. Wilmot ; and I should be 
doing great injustice to myself to decline the invitation, 
for I assure you that I am possessed of a ravenous 
appetite. It seems peculiar to this latitude ; and I am 
bound to confess that, after coming out of the woods 
into this open place, the sun pours down with a power 
that would do no discredit to Missouri.^^ 

At this juncture a stalwart countryman drove along 
the timber-road and drew up at the garden. He was 
an athlete in appearance, but mild in manner and quite 
social with Mrs. Wilmot. He inquired particularly 
about the grape-vines, which it appeared he had set out 
in the garden, and seemed interested in the raspberry 
bushes. His clothes fitted him none too well. His 
hands and feet were large. There was an easy, good- 
natured air about him that disarmed criticism. His 
hair was unkempt, and his grizzly beard had the appear- i 
ance of having been long since abandoned to the sole | 
charge of nature. His face was exceedingly intelligent, ! 
and his partially-closed eyes were of such brightness I 
and penetration that one would feel sure, if he had j 
anything to conceal from them, he would need to take 
extra precaution. In a moment he took the full 
measurement of Putnam. He had heard his remark ! 
about the hot sun, and after a few moments’ conver- 
sation with Mrs. Wilmot, without waiting for the super- 
fluous formality of an introduction, he took up the sub- ! 


CORD-WOOD AND EGGS. 


71 


ject of heat, and informed Mr. Putnam that the soil on 
the shore of Minnetonka, when exposed to the sun, was 
warmer than that of Missouri. 

Putnam was no less startled by the unceremonious 
familiarity of this Northern boor than by the remark- 
able statement he had just made ; but having observed 
the freedom with which Mrs. Wilmot addressed him, 
he felt that good breeding required him to ignore the 
incivility of the intruder, and tolerate his evident for- 
wardness in addressing a gentleman. 

Why, sir,’^ Putnam exclaimed, in Missouri, at this 
time of the year, the economic housewife roasts her eggs 
by covering them for a few hours with the soil, in the 
sunshine.^^ 

They did the same thing in Southern Ohio, where 
I was brought up, when they wanted them cooked 
hard,^^ answered the man of Minnetonka. 

At this juncture the maid of the Emerald Isle was 
seen passing with a basket of eggs which she had been 
gathering from nests in the vicinity. 

Here, Abby,^^ said the countryman to her famil- 
iarly, “ let me have a couple of those eggs.’^ Taking 
them out of the basket, he continued, I will put these 
eggs in the loose ground there on the south side of the 
garden fence, and by this time to-morrow they will be 
cooked hard.” 

This was so candidly and confidently said that the 
entire company looked into the quiet, cool face of the 
speaker to detect some evidence of banter, but nothing 
of the kind appeared. 

See here, stranger,” exclaimed Putnam, I am not 
a betting man, but that is too preposterous. I am 


72 


STOLEN STEPS, 


willing to wager ten dollars that the eggs will not be 
cooked by to-morrow noon, nor ever/^ 

Quietly and unconcernedly taking out a sadly-worn 
pocket-book, the countryman passed a ten-dollar bill 
to Mrs. Wilmot, saying, Hold the stakes.^^ Putnam 
could not back out, and also deposited his ten-dollar 
bill with the widow. The old countryman placed the 
two eggs at the spot designated, and invited the com- 
pany to be on the ground at the time named, and, getting 
into his wagon, drove away. 


DOCTOR AND FLOWERS. 


73 


CHAPTEE VIIL 

DOCTOR AND FLOWERS. 

AM surprised/' said Hardwick, as the staid old 
countryman disappeared in the limber, that a gentle- 
man of your dignity should so far depart from your 
high standard of gentility as to condescend to make a 
bet with one of the boorish mud-sills of the North." 

The fellow's assurance is as cool as a Minnesota 
winter, and it is my deliberate purpose to teach him a 
lesson," replied Putnam, 

This is a land, Mr, Putnam, in which every one 
has something to do, and if not too hard, I will be 
pleased to enlist you in the labor in which Mr. Hard- 
wick has volunteered to assist me," said Mrs. Wilmot, 
as she resumed the work of picking pease. 

I enter upon the work with pleasure ; but let me 
trust you will not want me to help you in chopping 
cord-wood, for I observed, as I passed through this 
timber, the ladies of this locality have entered that field 
of labor." 

Mrs. Wilmot : Ha ! ha ! Have you made that dis- 
covery ! Not much like the fashionable exercise of the 
South, is it ?" 

Putnam : I trust it will not become a general thing, 
for I assure you it appears to me the height of absurdity! 
As I passed along ,I had a talk with one of those strong- 


74 


STOLEN STEPS, 


minded women. She was engaged in chopping wood 
to earn money to pay her way through college.^^ 

Mrs. Wilmot : Oh, if you go round here very much, 
such matters will cease to astonish you. There ! I 
think we have enough pease for dinner. Now, Mr. 
Hardwick, you will please take Mr. Putnam to the 
library and introduce him to father. (Exit Hardwick 
and Putnam.) 

Hardly had the gentlemen disappeared, before the 
young ladies, each bearing her axe on her shoulder, 
rushed upon the widow. 

Grace : ‘^Oh, Mrs. Wilmot ! we have had such fun ! 
Would you believe it, we had a call from that most 
accomplished gentleman, Cousin Tom Putnam, — one of 
the stiffest and coldest fellows you ever met. He never 
suspected who we were, and Josephine just stuffed him 
with all the high notions you ever heard of, and he left 
us, convinced that we were real wood-choppers, belong- 
ing in the country, struggling by the edge of our axes 
to cut our way through college.^^ 

Mrs. Wilmot : Not too loud, girls ; he may hear 
you.’^ 

The girls (all at once and together) : Is he 
here 

Mrs. Wilmot: He has just been helping me pick 
pease for dinner. He is a magnificent specimen of a 
gentleman, — rather awkward as a picker of pease.’^ 

Josephine : Do you really mean that walking 

fashion-plate could bend enough to reach the pease and 
pick them V’ 

Mrs. Wilmot : I noticed the effort was great, but as 
a gentleman he could not well decline my request. He 


DOCTOR AND FLOWERS. 


75 


is in the library now, hungry as a bear. Do you sup- 
pose he will know you when you get out of your work- 
ing toggery and dress yourselves up ? But I know he 
won’t; he has not the least suspicion. Off with you, 
and dress for dinner.” (Exit the girls, bearing their 
axes.) 

How Putnam was ushered into the library and intro- 
duced to Richland, and the half-sneer with which he 
recognized the book-keeper as the welcome guest, need 
not be told. 

In due time lunch was announced ; and under the 
shade of the maples, where it was spread, Mr. Putnam 
was introduced to the two Misses Richland, who ap- 
peared in most becoming costume. The face of Joseph- 
ine, delicate as the blossom of a peach, with the slight- 
est coloring imparted by exposure to the suil and wind, 
betrayed no sign of the athletic wood-chopper so recently 
seen by the stranger. She was in the best of spirits, 
nd more than once found it difficult to abstain from 
informing the cool, self-complacent gentleman that she 
was in fact the strong-minded, flaming comet that had 
flashed athwart his astonished vision. 

Alvin Smith could not help noticing the unusual 
animation of the girls, and it was hard for him to tell 
whether Grace or Josephine most charmed him. 

The conversation turned on the subject of working- 
men and women. 

Grace : No more distressing servitude can be 

imagined than that endured by the fashionable lady. 
You cannot imagine the luxury of escape to a cozy re- 
treat like this, where nature and art have combined to 
win me back to the real enjoyment of life.” 


76 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Putnam: ^^Have you supplied yourself yet, Grace, 
with an axe and a maul and an iron wedge 

Grace : What on earth do you mean 

Putnam : Those are, apparently, the kind of instru- 
ments the ladies of this country use to gain a livelihood, 
and acquire sufficient vigor to pass creditably through 
college. By all means, Grace, provide yourself with an 
axe and maul and iron wedge. It is likely to become 
the woman’s badge of independence.” 

Josephine : I have heard of the ladies you speak of, 
Mr. Putnam. Did you really encounter one of them ?” 

Putnam : Three, upon my honor. I thought they 
were ashamed to show their faces, for they studiously 
wore their broad-brimmed hats, so that I could not see 
these wonders of the century. One of them, at least, 
had a tongue that would have done no discredit to the 
best platform lecturer. I declare, I could not keep up 
with her. She assured me there was an art in swinging 
the axe so exquisite and rare that, when understood, the 
implement found its way into the maple as gracefully as 
a dancing-master goes through a figure in the ball-room, 
I would be glad for you to make her acquaintance. Miss 
Eichland. You would forswear the drawing-room and 
parlor forever, and take to the woods and university.” 

Josephine : How you surprise me ! Was she really 
intelligent ?” 

Putnam : She talked like a professional ; and as to 
smartness, my word for it, if that girl could only be 
captured and tamed, she would outshine any of the belles 
of St. Louis.” 

Josephine : You flatter m — her. You would hardly 
say that to her face.” 


DOCTOR AND FLOWERS, 


77 


Putnam: assure you I felt like doing so; but she 

was so very industrious that, when the conversation was 
at the best, the vixen informed me that she must lose no 
more time, and turned her muscular back to me, and 
called to the girl with her to swing her maul,” 
Josephine : You said there were three/’ 

Putnam : There were ; but one of them seemed shy. 
She was graceful as a fawn. I tried to get a glimpse 
of her face, but she was so engaged piling up cord- wood 
that she did not consider me of sufficient importance to 
even give me a passing notice.” 

Richland : I am glad, Mr. Putnam, you have had 
a chance to meet these working-women of the North. 
I take it this is your first trip up here. I have myself 
met those same girls. I am happy to say that my 
fatherly appearance and countrified style served to re- 
move the barriers created by your city manners and 
dress. I trust Mrs. Richland will not be jealous when 
I inform you that they are remarkably sweet and in- 
telligent girls. They do not at all hesitate to reward 
my trouble in visiting them with kisses that warm the 
blood in my aging veins. The vigor they have ac- 
quired by the artistic use of the axe in the open air has 
added to their power to enthrall the susceptible hearts 
of young men. For this reason I have exercised con- 
siderable care to keep Mr. Smith under my guardianship 
while he remains with us. You, Mr. Putnam, will do 
well not to expose yourself again, in case any fair maiden 
in St. Louis has claims upon you.” 

The dialogue might be extended, but the progress of 
our story must not be too much retarded by indulging 
further in this dinner-talk. All who were at the table 
7 * 


78 


STOLEN STEPS. 


very soon discovered the design to conceal the identity 
of the wood-choppers, and richly enjoyed the admirable 
manner in which the conversation was conducted. 

Unquestionably, Putnam believed the ladies he had 
encountered in the wood were the personages described 
by Richland. There was something so humorous in 
the manner in which Richland spoke of them that he 
joined heartily in the jollity it occasioned, and Grace 
thought her cousin never appeared to better advantage. 
She almost hoped he would at last discover the incog- 
nito, and in the beams of her love be melted down and 
cast in more amiable form and character. She feared 
she had done him an injustice, but at this time there 
was no retreat. Putnam was prevailed upon to spend 
the afternoon. He found it enjoyable, and in the atten- 
tions Grace bestowed on him he discovered, as he be- 
lieved, evidence of a passion not less tender than that 
he felt for her. This was enough to restore good-humor 
to the man who for the past two days had been in a 
decided pet. 

Near the close of the day Grace sought the indus- 
trious housewife, Mrs. Wilmot, and told her of the sick 
woman at the hotel, and begged of her to allow her to 
have a few roses to carry to her. 

^^It is a blessed thought,’^ answered the widow. 

The way to be happy ourselves is to minister to those 
who are afflicted.’^ 

Mrs. Wilmot not only took her ready scissors and 
clipped the roses, but other flowers that were in season ; 
and, as Grace went bearing them in her generous hand, 
the widow looked after her with an admiring eye and 
tender heart. 


DOCTOR AND FLOWERS. 


79 


At the hotel Grace sought the room of the invalid, 
and was not a little surprised to find that the doctor had 
already arrived from the city, and was in the room of 
his patient. As she entered with her fragrant, beautiful 
flowers, fresh from their native stem, the doctor was 
struck with her expressive countenance; she seemed 
utterly unconscious of her own existence. He thought 
he saw before him the highest type of womanly love- 
liness. With a very slight coloring of the face — per- 
haps it was the reflection of the flowers in her hand — 
she quietly greeted him and hastened to the invalid, 
reclining in an easy-chair, and, with that tenderness of 
look which only a woman can bestow in the chamber 
of sickness, greeted her with words that were the breath 
of inspiration to the suflerer. Grace was mistress of the 
art of making a kind act appreciable ; it consisted in 
doing with the heart as well as the hand. She engaged 
in conversation with the doctor and his patient, and 
time was forgotten. The doctor was an admirable con- 
versationalist, while Grace was not only a good listener, 
but of captivating address. 

When she realized how much time she had spent, she 
was surprised, for it had been her intention to deliver 
the flowers and return to the cottage before the dark- 
ness prevented. In that latitude the summer evening 
is so gradual in its approach, and night herself is so 
luminous, that one is frequently surprised to discover 
by the striking of a clock that nine has arrived, without 
a light being in requisition. It was so on this occasion ; 
and when the doctor learned that Grace expected to 
return to the cottage that evening, he was led to profler 
his company as a necessary escort. Upon such slight 


80 


STOLEN STEPS, 


acquaintance she hesitated ; but there was such ease and 
courtliness in his conversation and manner that he 
seemed more like an old friend than an acquaintance of 
a day. As the two wended their way slowly among the 
great maples along the winding road, the full moon 
affording ample light, Grace felt an unaccountable 
attraction, which drew her irresistibly to this young 
physician she had never met till that morning. She 
felt ashamed of herself ; and yet this feeling permeated 
her whole being, and she felt that with this stranger 
there was a sense of comfort and confidence she had 
never before experienced. The conversation was com- 
monplace, and not in the least calculated to awaken or 
arouse that exquisite enjoyment she so sensibly felt. 
She taunted herself with inconstancy ; she reflected that 
she already loved Hardwick with all her heart, and that 
she loved Smith, in spite of this affection for Hard- 
wick. And now this giddy thing is warming up to 
this acquaintance of a day ! What am I to think of 
myself she exclaimed to her inner consciousness, as 
she walked demurely by the side of this third affinity. 
Was maiden ever so mutable? 

Arrived at the cottage, she was not a little discom- 
posed to find the gentlemen in the yard indulging in 
decided anxiety on her account. She introduced her 
new acquaintance, who remained for at least an hour, 
making himself quite at home with the family, who 
seemed to have frequently met him before. 

The heart of Putnam was depressed when he saw 
Grace so amiable in her conversation with this new 
rival ; for to him every one was a rival who moved 
within the circle of the young lady he loved next 


DOCTOR AND FLOWERS. 


81 


to himself. Alvin did not take it so much to heart, 
for the counter-attraction of Josephine was palliative. 
Both Alvin and Grace thought that the only bodies 
that moved right along in their congenial orbits were 
Hardwick and the widow. 

Eventually the company broke up, Hardwick, Alvin, 
and Grace remaining at the cottage, according to pre- 
vious arrangement, and Putnam and the doctor return- 
ing together to the hotel. 


82 


STOLEN STEPS, 


CHAPTER IX. 

MITTENED. 

The morning dawned clear and refreshing, and our 
enterprising young ladies were early in the forest, intent 
on making substantial addition to the cord of wood, or, 
more properly, to the prospective cord that grew but 
slowly, for, in spite of the brave spirits, there were 
blistered hands and lame arms, and the girls could but 
think that the lot of the laboring man must be sad, espe- 
cially when it consigns him to the duty of chopping down 
trees and working them up into cord-wood. There was, 
however, too much ambition in their souls to allow them 
to complain or desist. An hour’s work in the morning 
would sufiBce, if repeated often enough, to enable them 
to make a substantial showing, both in cord- wood and 
physical improvement. On this morning they were 
particularly anxious to get through with their hour’s 
work early, and return home before Mr. Putnam should 
appear, as they had reason to expect he would. 

Alvin, who was not seriously expected to do anything 
in the line of work, repaired to the library, where he 
found entertainment in the way of reading. Hardwick 
and Richland left him to himself during the morning 
hours, and when the girls returned from the woods and 
resumed their ordinary habits, they went in a body to 
the seclusion of this young student, where they found 
him poring over the pages of Montaigne’s Spirit of 
the Law.” 


MITTENED. 83 

Josephine : Mr. Smith, how can you content your- 
self with this dull, dismal ^ Spirit of the Law^ 

Alvin: “The child wonders what use there is in 
learning the names of the letters of the alphabet. He 
discovers in time that those twenty-six letters consti- 
tute the key that unlocks the storehouse of knowledge. 
But, ladies, by what right do you consign the ^ Spirit of 
the Law^ to the dull and dismal sphere of existence ? 
You mistake the quality of this spirit. It is, in fact, 
the torch-bearer of civilization. The lion of the wilder- 
ness is disappearing with the wilderness, because this 
benign torch-bearer has cast the light of civil govern- 
ment upon the barbarian, and man, secure in his person 
and property, has caused the wilderness to blossom. 
So, too, the human lion and lawless beast of prey has 
been driven from his den and compelled to submit to 
the law of the land. The wild beast, both animal and 
human, by the light of this divine torch, will be traced 
to their last retreat and compelled to submit to the 
domestication of the civil law or perish. The study of 
the law is only dull and dismal when the student fails 
to realize the grandeur of the subject, and is not en- 
lightened and inspired by this spirit.^^ 

Josephine : “ Bravo ! Such a torch-bearer is certainly 
capable of dispelling all darkness and gloom. There is 
more comfort in contemplating it than in splitting cord- 
wood ; but I suspect you are possessed of an imagination 
that lends power to your eyes, so that you can see and 
tell of things invisible to ordinary mortals. My idea is 
that law is studied generally as one learns, for instance, 
to handle the axe, for the profit that is expected.’^ 

Alvin : “ Doubtlessly that is the spirit that animates 


84 


STOLEN STEPS. 


many students, but such students never rise to the true 
and highest conception of the law. The world has not 
as yet attained the true conception of it ; it is the hand- 
maid of the arts and sciences. It is the divine gospel 
of peace on earth and good-will to man. At its altar 
the sword will be transformed into an instrument of 
husbandry, and war shall be impossible for law will be 
supreme, — and law is the minister of peace.^^ 

Josephine: ‘^Poetical, truly; but, alas! the law is 
written in prose, and, from what I have seen of father’s 
business, law is prosaic. One must read something 
outside of law-books to imbibe this poetry, and I am 
suspicious that you have found your inspiration in a 
way that ordinary students do not enjoy.” 

Alvin: “It may be that the journals and ledgers 
have conduced to this end.” 

Grace knew the source of the inspiration. It was 
a mind, singularly pure and exalted, and the love and 
companionship of a widowed mother, who had ever 
exerted herself to ennoble her son by instilling into his 
being noble thoughts and aspirations. She watched his 
bright, expressive face with a pleasure she could not 
conceal from the young man, and turning from Jo- 
sephine to Grace, he said playfully, — 

“There are spirits abroad at this place more con- 
genial than that of the law, and now that they have 
condescended to beam upon me with their enchanting 
eyes, I am only too glad to submit to their charm and 
be led by them wherever they will. The last and most 
beautiful creation of the ‘ spirit of law’ is the woman 
of modern civilization. At her feet I cast my crown 
and worship.” 


MITTENED. 


85 


Saying this, he arose, took his hat and invited the 
ladies to take a walk. The invitation was accepted, 
and each and all of them felt that they had in Mr. 
Smith a champion whom they could love and admire. 

Alvin had not realized that it was the wrong time 
of the day to walk out with comfort, even in the shady 
groves on the shore of Minnetonka. The sun was 
uncomfortably warm, and our friends found walking 
oppressive. They concluded to take a short stroll in 
the garden, and arriv^ed there just in time to join com- 
pany with the stately Putnam, Mr. Hardwick, Mrs. 
Wilmot, Mr. and Mrs. Richland, and last, but by no 
means least, the countryman who had undertaken on a 
wager to convince the gentleman from St. Louis that 
an egg could be cooked as economically by the sunshine 
at Minnetonka Lake as at the mouth of the muddy 
Missouri. It was noticed that the fine young Irish lady 
was also on the ground, and taking in the situation 
with an unsual twinkling of her fine, gray eyes. 

Countryman: Happy to find you all here. lam 
not a gambler, but if I can by demonstration satisfy 
this friend and evident stranger that here, on the con- 
fines of the most beautiful lake in the world, nature 
has provided a soil as genial and warm as even sunny 
Italy can boast of, I shall be conferring a benefit on 
mankind in advertising the fact and promoting im- 
j migration to Minnesota.^^ 

I Richland: That speech, Mr. Countryman, smacks 
of the Hennepin County Horticultural Society. The 
demonstration is called for.’^ 

Hardwick: Aye, the demonstration.^^ 

I Countryman : Very well ; I will produce the eggs.’^ 

i' 8 


86 


STOLEN STEPS. 


With an air of supreme confidence the countryman 
went to the place of deposit of the two eggs, and, in 
plain sight of the company, took them from their warm 
resting place, handed them to Mrs. Wilmot, and re- 
quested her to break them. She complied, and to the 
astonishment of all present, except the countryman and 
the gray-eyed maiden from Erin’s Isle, the eggs were 
found to be cooked hard. 

Widow: “ What do you say to this, Mr. Putnam?” 

Putnam: “Lost!” 

Widow: “ As badly lost as you were yesterday ?” 

Countryman: “The gentleman has by experience 
learned what it is hard for the outside world to under- 
stand, that here, in Minnesota, and especially here at 
Minnetonka Lake, we have a climate and soil as near 
perfect as the benignant Author of our being vouchsafes 
to man. Our summers are short, but while they last, 
they are unsurpassed in all that is required to develop 
vegetation, and especially fruit, that natural and most 
appropriate food of man. (Receiving the two ten- 
dollar bills from the widow.) Ladies and gentlemen, 
I trust our meeting has been instructive and entertain- 
ing. If we wish to enjoy light and warmth, we must 
bring the polished steel of the city in contact with 
the hard flint of the country. Will be pleased to see 
you at any time.” (Exit with grave countenance and 
awkward gait, Putnam gazing after him in a be- 
wildered, dazed state.) 

Widow (at lunch-table) : “ Mr. Putnam, will you 
have your eggs hard or rare ?” 

Smith : “Don’t you think, Mr. Putnam, that ‘country- 
man,’ as you all seem to call him, was eggs-act-ing ?” 


MITTENED, - 87 

Josephine: Don’t you think, Mr. Putnam, the fel- 
low’s assurance is as cool as a Minnesota winter ?” 

Putnam : The fact is, I have passed the bound of 
thinking. What is the use of thinking, when such 
great hulks of humanity as that so readily get the 
best of you ? Mr. Richland, pray enlighten me ; do 
you know who he is ?” 

Richland : The winner ? The fact is, Mr. Putnam, 
he is a very ordinary man for this locality. You must 
understand you are now in Hennepin County ; that 
Hennepin County includes within its bordei's the piv- 
otal city of Minneapolis. Lake Minnetonka is sur- 
rounded with a class of people who know everything 
and can do anything. I did not suppose, however, 
they could so readily roast eggs in my garden. Abby, 
my daughter, you will profit by the example and save 
fuel.” 

Abhy, the Irish maid, sotto voce (who enters while 
Richland is speaking) : Faith ! and precious little 
fuel was saved ; for didn’t I have to take out the eggs 
and cook them meself. For a man of his size, Mr. 
Putnam, is the wakest gull me blessid eyes ever looked 
on. The tin dollars the man give me — God bless him ! 
— for doin’ that bit of cookin’ will go well towards 
settin’ me up in house-kapin’ when Pat gets here, and 
we have a bit of w^eddin’.” 

In the cool of the afternoon Grace reminded Mrs. 
Wilmot of her invalid acquaintance at the hotel, and 
begged another supply of fresh flowers. ^^This time,” 
said the girl, I want to go early, before the doctor 
arrives, for I do not wish him to imagine that I take 
the flowers to get into his company.” 


88 


STOLEN STEPS. 


^^For a young lady as well provided as you with 
gentlemen friends, it may be well enough, for, if I can 
judge from the deportment of your cousin, he would be 
most likely to take it much to heart should you repeat 
the adventure of last night. But don^t be uneasy ; the 
doctor is quite able to take care of you in case of 
trouble. He belongs to the cream of the city, and 
is 

^^No matter what he is, Mrs. Wilmot; I want to 
get there and back without seeing him.^^ 

Grace walked leisurely along the forest road, which 
was becoming familiar to her, meditating on the events 
of the day. She could but feel that her cousin had 
been cruelly guyed, and that in a measure she had been 
a party to it. She was glad when that individual over- 
took heron his return to his quarters at the hotel. She 
manifested this feeling in her manner and address, and 
he felt encouraged to . proceed with the momentous 
business that had for some time been uppermost in his 
mind. 

Grace : Why, Tom, this is kind of you. I sup- 
posed you would have preferred to remain with the 
ladies and have a good time. You see, I have become 
a Sister of Charity. I am carrying flowers to the in- 
valid I visited last night. Tom, don’t you think you 
have been imposed upon all round ?” 

Tom : “ How so ?” 

Grace : Why, didn’t you know those wood-choppers 
were the two Richland girls and my own guilty self?” 

Tom: You astonish me ! You one of those wood- 
choppers !” 

Grace : To be sure I was, my dear old boy ; and I 


MITTENED, 89 

confess that you were more readily taken in than I 
thought possible. And then about those eggs 

Tom : What revelation have you to make about 
them ? I confess there is something deuced queer about 
the affair, but I can’t understand it.” 

Grace : How easy it would have been for that bright 
Irish girl to conspire with that big, shrewd countryman, 
and secretly take the eggs and cook them and return 
them to the same place. The bet was that the eggs 
would be cooked hard, and they were.” 

Tom : By heavens ! It is a revelation, indeed. I 

was a dupe, and you sympathize with — with Oh, 

Grace ! how can I thank you for this expression of 
sympathy with one so much in need of a guardian ? 
Be my guardian, Grace ; be my wife.” 

Grace : Why, Tom, you take my breath ! I will 
be glad to guard you, but should I become your wife I 
should disappoint you.” 

Tom: Never, never. You are just fitted to adorn 
my home, Grace.” 

Grace : “ Adornments are to be had at any first-class 
furniture store. You would want a wife to love you, 
would you not ? Now, Tom, be considerate. The ex- 
hilarating atmosphere of this place has intoxicated you ; 
you are grateful to me because I have taken your part 
when I think you have been imposed upon. I now 
take your part in a matter of far greater importance. 
I think too much of you to have you wed a woman wlio 
likes you as a relative and friend, but who has it not in 
her power to give you her heart.” 

Tom : Am I too late, then ? Have you given it to 
another ?” 


8 * 


90 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Grace : Now, Tom, I want you to be your own self. 
You imagine you love me. You will find out within 
a reasonable time that you are mistaken. I am not in 
love with you, and in matters of the heart we are not 
masters. (Taking his arm.) Come, Tom, let us hasten, 
for I am afraid of that doctor. He will think that I 
carry flowers in order to meet him. Get you a wife, 
Tom ; you are old enough and good enough ; but please 
drop me out of the list of possible candidates. Now 
you will not feel badly, will you 

Tom : Oh, Grace ! How your inexperienced tongue 
pierces my heart. You talk trivially about the most 
serious question of our life. I am older than you. 
Spontaneous love is a myth. It comes only by culti- 
vation. The emotional sentiment of love is but a 
fragile wild rose that fades with the first exposure to 
the glare of the sun ; it exists only in the imagination. 
The love of real life is friendship ; tried by acquaint- 
ance and cemented by mutual confidence and respect. 
This is a business and not an ideal world. We have 
always known each other, and there is no reason why 
we should not have the good fortune to marry and be 
happy 

Grace : In a business point of view, you speak sen- 
sibly; but I cannot subscribe to your sentiments, and 
am not old enough to give up what you say is a mere 
matter of sentiment and imagination. Marriages of 
the kind you are in favor of are abundant, and the 
divorce courts well supplied with grists. Should I 
marry a man without loving him, I should despise the 
man who became such a husband with his eyes open, 
and, despise myself. Now, Tom, let us forever abandon 


MITTENED, 


91 


this project of yours. You are not only a friend, but a 
relative. I have no disposition to marry on the terms 
you propose, and if only such marriage is offered, I shall 
remain unwed. Here we are at the hotel. See the 
beautiful sunset on the lake.’^ 

Tom : It is a symbol of the sunset of my love. 
With your refusal, my sun of hope goes down. My 
disappointment is crushing. I must, however, yield to 
fate and abandon hope. Good-by.^^ 

Chraoe : The setting sun leaves but the shadow of 
the revolving earth. It will reappear with the morning, 
in the east, bright and warm. So will your sun of hope 
rise again. Good-by, Tom.’^ 

She raises her eyes imploringly to his, and, lifting her 
arms to his shoulders, puckers her cherry lips for a 
kiss. She was never more beautiful, and, as Tom presses 
his lips to hers, he enfolds her in his arms for a moment, 
and is gone. 

Grace (solus) : Poor Tom ! I did not know he had 
so much feeling. But let him once get me in his cage, 
and his jealousy would be the death of me. His heart 
is too old and tough to break on my account. I am 
determined he shall not have a chance to crush mine. 
But the doctor ! My ! If he should be here.^^ 

However, the doctor had not arrived ; but when he 
did come his eyes rested with satisfaction on the fresh 
flowers ; and approaching them he inhaled their deli- 
cious odor. Ah, doctor! the flowers carried by the 
hand of a beautiful young lady to the sick-room not 
only promote the comfort of the invalid, but affect the 
heart of a susceptible young physician I 


92 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE MITTENED MAN MEETS HIS MOTHER AT HER 
OLIVE STREET HOME. 

On the day after the discouraging dialogue between 
Grace and her devoted relative, a trunk of regulation 
dimensions was transferred from the Hotel St. Louis 
to the landing, and put aboard an early morning boat 
that touched at that place, while with solemn visage but 
scrupulously-adjusted bang, moustache, cravat, hat, and 
blacik Prince Albert coat, Mr. Thomas Putnam might 
have been seen entering the narrow gangway of the 
same craft. His bill at the hotel had been carefully 
scrutinized and paid, and, disgusted with the place and 
the people, including himself, his eyes were now turned 
to the bachelor quarters in his mother’s home on Olive 
Street, in the staid, undemonstrative city of St. Louis. 
Welcome would be the rattle of the wagons on the stone 
pavements, and the clatter and rattle of cable-cars pass- 
ing the ancient mansion. Nevermore would the hollow 
smiles of shallow-pated maidens lure him from the even 
tenor of his way. Humiliated, but not humbled, he 
pursued his solitary journey. In vain the witching, 
sweet- smiling babe in the pretty mother’s loving arms 
crowed in the seat opposite. In its innocent, pure face 
no balm was found for his proud heart. The uewsboy 
passed him as a thing to be dreaded, while the fellow- 


THE MITTENED MAN MEETS HIS MOTHER. 93 

passengers studied his frigid features and buttoned their 
coats, though it was midsummer. 

The Widow Putnam was the one person in all the 
world, except himself, who devotedly loved and unre- 
servedly admired Thomas Putnam. He was her only 
child. In his cool reserve, stately bearing, and distin- 
guished appearance she realized the perfect fruit of the 
high culture and breeding she had been at so much care 
and expense to develop. 

But let it not be imagined that this high-toned dame 
was exempt from all mundane care. She had failed to 
prevail on him to keep en rapport — she was fond of 
using these French phrases — with the inhabitants of the 
rather apocryphal sphere of what she was pleased to call 
the first society His personal tastes were so fas- 
tidious that very few could approximate his self-meas- 
ured standard of excellence. He possessed the judgment 
to see that the luminaries of this sphere were but satel- 
lites. Shine as they might, he saw it was but a bor- 
rowed splendor they reflected, and despised them in 
spite of the urgent appeals of his mother. With all the 
adulation of self and his fond mother, he was not so de- 
moralized in sentiment and feeling as not to prefer the 
company of sensible people, and as these people seldom 
appeared in his mother’s select circle, he lived much 
alone, or in the company of business men. 

Disappointed with the society into which his mother 
introduced him, and unconscious of the genuine circle 
of good society, in which worth is recognized and sham 
discarded, he grew to be the cynical, cold, reserved, 
repulsive bachelor we find him at this time. 

His mother almost despaired of ever seeing him the 


94 


STOLEN STEPS. 


established head of a household, — a family she would 
be pleased to see mentioned in social parlance, as the 
first and best in the distinguished city of his birth. She 
was in his confidence as much as any one, and she dis- 
covered with a degree of satisfaction, more intense than 
her cultivated reserve w^ould allow her to express, 
the dawning of what she was disposed to call love on 
the part of her son for the most promising young lady, 
to whom he had unsuccessfully offered his scrupulously 
clean, white, and tender hand, in the immediate vicinity 
of the Hotel St. Louis. It was due to her management 
that her finical son and this lady had been induced to 
join the party of excursionists to Lake Minnetonka. 
She trusted that her fascination would lead the cold but 
splendid gentleman to unbend before this sweet charmer, 
and gather her to him and herself. That she should 
decline the chance of an alliance so great and honorable 
was an idea that never entered her doting head. 

When, without previous notice, Thomas walked into 
his mother’s sitting-room on his return from the North, 
a glance in his face warned her that he had not returned 
with flying colors. 

You surprise me, Thomas. What brought you back 
so soon? Nothing serious is the matter, I hope?” 

I was gallivanting long enough in that deuced wild 
place. What comfort there is in watching the hungry 
hordes that wander round the lake, and make them- 
selves ridiculous in pretending to enjoy it, is more than 
I can tell. For down-right comfort, give me the old 
home and — mother and with this bit of flattery he 
received in reward a kiss from the old lady that was 
as genuine and true as could be evolved in an establish- 


THE MITTEN ED MAN MEETS HIS MOTHER. 95 


ment where artificiality had destroyed all that was 
pleasing and natural. 

Gallivanting ! What will become of you, Thomas, 
if you hold your head so high that you cannot see the 
people among whom you are obliged to move? I am 
afraid you are too exclusive and impatient. Society is 
dull and stupid, of course ; but what would our world 
be without it? We must put up with our inferiors 
when we are without superiors, don^t you know 

No, mother ; I don’t know and I don’t care ! Your 
very proper niece, whom you tried to convince me was 
the person above all others fittest to be your daughter- 
in-law ” 

Tried to convince !” interrupted the mother. Un- 
less I was greatly deceived by appearances, you were 
fully convinced for yourself. I hope you have not 
turned your critical microscopic vision on her, and 
discovered spots that make her objectionable ! Oh, 
Thomas ; those spots will appear on the best of them, 
when you turn your magnifying glass upon them. You 
know that even the sun has its dark, ugly spots when 
you come to look at it that way.” 

If every one had the regard and love for me my 
mother entertains, I would have smooth sailing ; but it 
is surprising how others overlook my good points. 
Even that marvellous creature without spot or blemish, 
Grace Putnam, has failed to discover my merits, and 
has had the audacity to reject my hand !” 

The old lady swooned. That her son should have 
suffered this humiliation was a horror too awful for her 
to contemplate. The son had long been familiar with 
this refined manifestation of his mother’s breeding, 


96 


STOLEN STEPS. 


and awaited her restoration to consciousness with com- 
posure. Opening her eyes and mouth at the same 
time, she ejaculated, Reject you ! That plain, con- 
ceited, stuck-up Again her feelings were over- 

powering, and she sank back in the billowy cushions 
of her lounge. 

Thomas could not indorse these last utterances of 
his distracted mother. He muttered to himself, The 
girl has an admirable spirit. Her old-fashioned ideas 
of love are charming, even if not fashionable. I was 
too rash. I overlooked the trifle of hearts. That is 
to be pursued as the wary hunter pursues the chamois 
of the Alps, — with infinite pains and caution. I had 
forgotten the heart. I fear my mother has left the 
heart out of the question in her laudable effort to bring 
me up so as to shine as a star in her firmament. Hearts 
are no part of my assets. I find that they are not to 
be acquired by the ordinary dicker for homes and posi- 
tion.^^ 

After all, Tom,^^ said the old lady, reviving, it 
is no killing affair. You are no spring chicken, and 
know that there are plenty of other girls with as fine 
forms and faces, and even better prospects, than the 
silly creature who was so ignorant, and in all proba- 
bility crazed by the trashy novels she reads.’^ 

Yes, mother, answered the son, dejectedly ; but 
suppose I should find another girl just suited to your 
fancy, and I should propose to her, and she should 
demand an inventory of my assets, and on examination 
ask where the heart is, what should be my answer?’^ 

The question would be vulgar and unfashionable,^’ 
was the reply. 


CAPTAIN WILLIAM PUTNAM, 


97 


CHAPTER XL 

CAPTAIN WILLIAM PUTNAM. 

Only a few blocks from the dwelling of the Widow 
Putnam and on the same street stood that of Captain 
William Putnam. Like its proprietor, this dwelling 
had seen its best days. Once it had been the finest and 
most imposing on the street. In a style peculiar to an 
earlier generation, it sided directly up to the street 
leaving no place for porch or front yard. Little, green- 
shuttered windows and one small door-way in a great, 
three-story, red-brick wall were what the passer-by 
would observe. Encroaching business had, with un- 
mannerly disregard of the ancient proprieties of the 
place, gained possession of the locality, and society had 
demanded more exclusive quarters in which to with- 
draw itself from contact with vulgar trade. 

The few sycamores that still maintained standing- 
room on the street side seemed in the last desperate 
struggle for existence. Their stiff, dust-grimed leaves 
were gray and sparse, like the hair on the head of the 
aged man. 

But through the little windows of this antiquated 
house one could see that a deft and capable hand had 
been employed in hanging and draping the rich cur- 
tains, and the flower-pots and boxes on the sills of the 
upper windows evinced the presence of some one ani- 
mated with a sense of beauty and taste. 

IS, g 9 


98 


STOLEN STEPS. 


This was the home of Grace Putnam. And she it 
was who constituted the last link that held the old 
gentleman to the place. She was, in fact, his only 
remaining hold upon life. 

On the evening of the interesting interview between 
Dame Putnam and her son Thomas, William Putnam 
and his old housekeeper sat alone at the dinner-table. 
The exceedingly warm weather, and still more the 
absence of Grace and her young company, that usually 
enlivened the house and imparted cheerfulness to the 
old man and his housekeeper, was beginning to tell on 
each. 

You want to clear out awhile, captain,^^ said the old 
housekeeper ; it is a shame for you to be peggin' away 
at your business when the weather is hot enough to melt 
the life out of you. And Pd like to know what it^s all 
for. You have more than you can eat or wear, and 
goodness knows Grace can^t enjoy possession of your 
gettin’s when she knows how much you slaved yourself 
in the gettin' of it.^^ 

I can’t well go, Mrs. Hubbs, while Hardwick and 
Tom are both away. I don’t mind the hot weather. 
I have always worked, summer and winter, and don’t 
feel the worse for it.” 

Many a boat, captain, has put on all steam, bound 
not to be beat, and never blown up ; but sometimes 
bilers will burst. Besides, Tom has got home ; I saw 
him in the street-car just a little while ago.” 

Glad to hear that, Mrs. Hubbs. I declare it takes 
a load off my shoulders. Maybe I will go North and 
surprise Grace.” 

After concluding his late and unrelished dinner, 


CAPTAIN WILLIAM PUTNAM, 


99 


Captain Putnam, as was his wont, repaired to his private 
room. For years this had been his place of retirement, 
and it was in it he lived in the enjoyment of the past. 
To any one but himself, the place would have been too 
suggestive of the frailty of the tenure of human life 
and the mutability of human affairs to be congenial. 
Several portraits hung upon the wall. The most con- 
spicuous of these was that of his deceased wife. Another 
was that of an only son who, in the dawn of early man- 
hood, had been stricken with fatal disease, and breathed 
his last in the now vacant room, once joyous with his 
young and hopeful life. 

By the grave of his mother his body was deposited, 
with tears and prayers. On the opposite side of the 
portrait of his wife was the sweet, fresh, young face of a 
daughter. No earth tomb received her body, but in the 
briny deep it went down with the ill-fated ship that was 
bearing her, all loveliness and expectation, from the old 
world — a happy bride. 

But to the old man these were not the portraits of 
the dead. Wife and son and daughter were with him 
in the meditations of the night and in his dreams, when 
his head rested alone on the pillow. 

In this room his family was reunited, and it was here 
he loved to be alone with them. Seated at his table, he 
took from his pocket the last letter received from Grace, 
and re-read it : 

“ Eichland Cottage, Minnesota. 

“ Dearest Papa, — This is such an interesting place and so 
enjoyable that I feel like dragging you by force out of your 
lonely room and carrying you up to this place, where there is such 
sweet, refreshing air and such hospitable people. I am having 
lots of fun. It has worked wonders on Mr. Hardwick ; he is not 


100 


STOLEN STEPS. 


the same person. I do believe he is in love with Abhy Wilmot, 
so don’t he deluded into the belief that he wants to convert your 
girl into Mrs. Hardwick. 

‘‘Mrs. Wilmot is a lovely woman. Her lips seem to be in a 
perpetual pout for a kiss, and the way Hardwick looks at her and 
acts convinces me that he will never give up until he can get a 
kiss of his own right there, where it will do the most good. He 
is a dear, good man, and I must own that at first I was awfully 
jealous ; now I am of such callous heart that I rather enjoy this 
masterly angling of the experienced widow. Hardwick thinks 
he has done some good fishing since coming here, but the premium 
must be awarded to Mrs. Wilmot. 

“ Mr. Kichland has taken a great liking for Mr. Smith. Smith 
bears the honors of what to him is a new life with great modera- 
tion, and it is hard for me to realize that he is the quiet young 
book-keeper I used to see perched upon his high stool. I confess 
I am unable to understand how it is that Mr. Hardwick should 
so favor him as to keep him here. That examination of the books 
was all bosh. He is a splendid oarsman, and I enjoy rowing by 
moonlight on the lake so very much. 

“ Mr. and Mrs. Richland send their love, and join me in en- 
treating you to come and spend a few weeks in this most enchant- 
ing summer home, from which I write this letter. Good-by, 
dear Papa, 


“ Grace. 


CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY. IQl 


CHAPTER XII. 

CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY, AND THEN 
ANOTHER. 

Passing down into the yard of the St. Louis Union 
Depot, Captain Putnam entered pandemonium. Here 
were representatives of all races and tongues. On each 
side of a long passage trains are backed up, and the 
name and destination, with hour of starting, carefully 
posted where it would be supposed all could see and 
understand. But it is a queer circumstance that 
strangers entering one of these great depots are at once 
deprived of their heads ; not by any process of physical 
decapitation, but by temporary demoralization of the 
faculties. In confused words they confuse and unfortu- 
nately demoralize the not too intelligent depot assist- 
ants, and these functionaries indulge in the idea that 
only cranks ask questions of the kind they are called 
on to answer. 

Undisturbed by the jostling multitude. Captain Put- 
nam readily found his way to the Minneapolis train by 
the Burlington route, on the west side of the Missis- 
sippi, and in a few minutes after he had seated himself 
comfortably in one of the sleeping-cars, the train was 
slowly moving out. As was his habit, the old man took 
a leisurely inventory of the fellow-passengers in his 
car. 

9 ^ 


102 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Opposite him he noticed a plainly but neatly-dressed 
lady. He liked her appearance. There was a pleasing, 
intelligent expression, and a face neither old nor young. 
He noticed that her glossy black hair was unmixed with 
gray, and that it was in harmony with her broad, white 
forehead and dark eyes. Perhaps he saw the face at its 
very best, from the fact that the letter she seemed to be 
reading was agreeable, and the sense of pleasure she 
felt in reading it manifested itself in her face, which the 
old man, with sly glances, was reading with curious 
pleasure; for, with all the care and all the sorrows to 
which he had been subjected, his heart was warm, and 
his admiration of the fair sex remained undiminished. 

Could the reader have been privileged to peruse this 
letter, he would have detected the cause of satisfaction. 
It was from our acquaintance, Alvin Smith, and the 
lady was no other person than this young man’s mother. 
This is the letter : 


“ Kichland Cottage, Minnesota. 

“ Dearest Mother, — What I hopefully hinted in my last 
letter is now an accomplished fact. I have rented of Mr. Eich- 
land a cozy, ready-furnished cottage on the premises he occupies 
with his family. He intended it for a friend who failed to come 
this summer, and as it was vacant he was so considerate as to 
remember that I had a mother sweltering in St. Louis, and that 
she might just as well be here with me as not, and in fact spend 
the summer, for I have no. idea of remaining all summer. Why 
I am kept here at all is what puzzles me, especially as Mr. Hard- 
wick insists on paying my salary and expenses right along. It 
looks as though your daily prayer for your son has been gra- 
ciously answered, for I assure you the kindness and attention 
bestowed on me here seem strangely inconsistent with the humble 
place I fill when at home. 

“ Enclosed find a pass Mr. Hardwick has been kind enough to 
secure for you, and do not delay starting at once, for I long beyond 


CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY. 103 


all things to have my darling mother here to enjoy the pleasure 
of this glorious retreat. When you reach Minneapolis on the 
St. Louis and Minneapolis train, take the Manitoba road, and 
stop at Wyzetta, where you will he met by your affectionate 

“ SoN.^* 

Why should not the lady feel pleased ? Such a son 
is a precious possession rarely acquired. She put the 
letter back in her little satchel, and as she looked out 
of the window there was an ineffable sweetness in her 
face. They were crossing the Missouri, and now away 
up the Mississippi Valley, with countless fields of corn 
on either side, on they sped. 

The corn-fields grow monotonous spreading out on 
the dead level of the broad valley. It is a relief to ap- 
proach the straggling Missouri villages where at the 
station the motley crowd await the train. Fat black 
women, with a numerous progeny of pickaninnies at 
their heels; broad-brimmed, sallow-faced, cornsilk- 
bearded grangers, their cadaverous mouths reeking 
with tobacco-juice; damsels in picturesque groups, 
munching the inevitable gum, and giggling and ogling 
at the big, bold-faced boys standing about in no appar- 
ent hurry, and quite indifferent whether school keeps or 
not. These views from the car-windows serve to vary 
the monotony of the corn-fields. Above Keokuk (for 
at last they pass the borders of Missouri, make a lofty 
bow to the old city of Quincy on the east bank of the 
H river, to do which they are obliged to cross a long 
I j bridge and return) the old man grows interested, for 
I] he is nearing his childhood home. On a majestic bend 
' of the river, on the opposite side, in the distance is seen 
I the historic town of Nauvoo. It is on an eminence just 


104 


STOLEN STEPS. 


where the Mississippi makes its most westward curve 
in the bend round which the train is passing. As Put- 
nam sees the mild-faced widow looking across the river 
and taking in the grand view on the opposite side, he 
remarks, — 

An interesting place. That was the stronghold of 
Joe Smith and his Mormon followers. When he was 
there, in the full glory of his dominion, I was a young 
man, — or at least I felt like one, for I was more than 
sixteen years old, and lived on a farm only two miles 
back of the place. I would like to stop and see it once 
more.’^ 

^^You surprise me,” answered the woman. ^^Can 
that be the famous town of Nauvoo ?” 

It is indeed. You can see but little of it from here, 
but what you see will remain in view for more than 
forty miles as we continue to round the great bend of 
the river. No more sightly spot could have been found. 
It all seems like a dream. I used to wander along the 
streets of the city of those Latter-Day Saints when all 
was life and expectation. Joe Smith was mayor, and 
under the City charter he had almost absolute power. 
His missionaries were scouring the cities of Europe, and 
succeeded in obtaining many converts to his wonderful 
religion. Not a few of them had money, and were 
attracted as much by the glowing accounts of the rising 
city of the Mississippi and the rich country as by the 
revelations made to the Lord^s Modern Prophet. Had 
Smith been an honest man, of course he would never 
have palmed ofiF his Book of Mormon as miraculously 
discovered, and all that ; but if he had even been a pru- 
dent man, after having succeeded in obtaining recog- 


CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY, 105 


nition as a genuine prophet and saint, there is no tell- 
ing what he might not have done at Nauvoo. But he 
was an unmitigated rogue ; success had turned his head, 
and he grew intolerant and licentious both in morals 
and in administration of the government as mayor, and 
as sole trustee of the Mormon Church, He and his 
brother became marked men, both among the honest 
Mormons and the people of the surrounding country. 
To protect himself. Smith had the brazen face to organ- 
ize a small army of fifteen hundred of his most unscru- 
pulous and devoted followers and dupes. This was too 
much for the plain but determined citizens of Illinois. 
His ^ Nauvoo Legion,^ as he called his army of advent- 
urers and lawless men, only hastened his fall. 

Quite unexpectedly he and his brother were sur- 
prised by the sheriff, who had a warrant for their arrest 
on a criminal charge, and before the Nauvoo Legion 
could be summoned the two brothers were carried off 
to jail, I had the curiosity to steal a march on my 
father, who with a company of masked men visited 
the jail, and without any trial or hearing shot the two 
brothers while they were in prison. Unbeknown to my 
father I was in the crowd and saw the pitiful brothers 
facing their executioners. It made a powerful im- 
pression on me, I assure you. As you know, another 
and shrewder Yankee succeeded Joe Smith, and under 
his lead the Mormons made the long overland journey 
to Salt Lake, and the lively flourishing town was left 
deserted, and netver since has it been a place of any 
importance. There is no more sightly site for a city 
in America ; but in America cities don’t grow up on 
such sightly places. Business is dreadfully humble. 


106 


STOLEN STEPS. 


It locates itself in the low places, by the rivers and 
lakes, where boats can come and go, and railroads be 
best accommodated/^ 

Our travellers had now reached Fort Madison, and 
the promontory on which stood the ancient Mormon 
city still loomed up in the distance, and the old man 
in a longing way still kept his eyes on the place of his 
boyhood life and experiences. It was with a sigh his 
vision failed to longer take in the place, while the 
train, drawn by tireless steed, thundered on its way. 
We will not follow them on the journey. 

It was on the evening of the succeeding day that the 
train to Minnetonka, on the Manitoba Road, drew up at 
Wyzetta. There Mrs. Smith had the joy of embracing 
her son. 

There was a commotion among the people at the 
station. One of the passengers aboard the cars just 
arrived remained in his seat. He was limp and help- 
less ! Paralysis had benumbed his hands and feet, and 
his tongue was without its accustomed power. Help- 
less and voiceless, he sat in utter despair, as could be 
seen by his wistful face and beseeching eyes. Who 
could the miserable man be? The conductor of the 
train, who still remained aboard, examined his pockets 
and found a letter. Hastily he read the address, for it 
was in an unopened envelope. 

Miss Grace Putnam, Wyzetta, Minn.^^ From mouth 
to mouth the mystery of the man and the name of the 
person to whom the letter was addressed was circulated, 
until it was heard by Alvin Smith and his mother. 
They rushed through the crowd and gained access to 
the sufferer. 


CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY. 107 

It is Captain Putnam/^ cried Alvin, with a shud- 
der. His mother saw it was the old man who had oc- 
cupied the sleeping-car, and was her neighbor on the 
journey to Minneapolis, 

Tenderly they caused him to be conveyed to the hotel 
at Wyzetta, and at once despatched a messenger to 
Grace. Alvin and his mother remained with the 
stricken man. Fortunately, our old acquaintance. Dr. 
Mills, had arrived from Minneapolis on his way to 
Hotel St. Louis for the evening. Learning that the 
unfortunate man was the father of Miss Grace Putnam, 
the charming young lady whom he had met in the room 
of his patient at the hotel, he was only too willing to 
remain during the night with this new patient, who lay 
in helplessness on the couch where he had been placed. 
Grace was at his side at the earliest moment. Her pale 
face and distracted, tearless eyes told the tale of suffer- 
ing and resolute composure. A greater sufferer than 
herself demanded her assistance, and she had exerted 
her will to its utmost tension to fit her for the work. 

As she entered and saw her parent apparently resting 
and in health, she could not realize his actual condition. 
His eyes met hers and the anguish of the previous 
bout's disappeared. It told her in unmistakable words 
to be of good cheer. 

This very tenderness and expressiveness of the eye, 
and a certain sweetness of the face, overcame the girl, 
and she fell with a pathetic cry upon his bosom. It 
was well. The tension had been too great. Blessed 
tears came to her rescue, and in a little while she was 
prepared to take up the bitter cross of affliction. 

The woman’s heart of Mrs. Smith was hardly less 


108 


STOLEN STEPS. 


moved than that of the girl. While she had never 
met Captain Putnam previous to the meeting on the 
cars, and then she had not learned his name or destina- 
tion, she had so often heard Alvin speak of him in 
such kindly language that she felt for him as though 
he had been a near relative. Nor had Alvin failed to 
mention the daughter in terms of the highest praise, 
and now, as the widow looked upon the comely face of 
the grief-stricken girl, her heart went out to her. She 
could have taken her in her own motherly arms and 
longed to console and help her, but from these the girl 
turned imploringly to the doctor. 

Taking him out of the hearing of the suffering 
patient, she asked, Doctor, is there any hope ?” 

With a younger person, nature might be trusted to 
rally; but in one of his age it is something we dare 
not expect. If his constitution is vigorous, he may, to 
some extent, rally and linger for months, but he will 
not recover ; at least the chances are all against him. 
I learn from Mr. Smith he has always worked in a 
business that was worrisome and arduous, and the result 
has been, an apparently vigorous, healthy man, but in 
fact a man like a vigorous-looking, hollow tree, — a green 
shell and nothing more. In such cases medicine is 
useless and physicians superfluous.^^ 

The prognostication of the young physician was 
correct. More experienced physicians were called, 
but the case proved hopeless. There was nothing to 
do but wait for the spirit, that seemed to have been 
cruelly arrested in its flight from the falling tenement 
and held in the ruins, to linger till the merciful hand 
of death should effect its release. 


CAPTAIN PUTNAM MAKES A JOURNEY, 109 


Hardwick had gone on an excursion to Tacoma, and 
would not be back for several weeks. Mrs. Smith was 
installed in her summer cottage, where by her modest 
ways and lady-like deportment she became the favorite 
of the Richland family. In his spirit of hospitality, 
Richland had procured the removal of the stricken man 
to a room in his own cottage, and all that love could do 
to make his last days comfortable was done. His wist- 
ful eyes ever followed the movements of Grace, who 
seldom left him. The strong man had become a help- 
less infant, and Grace was the mother. Much of the time 
his mind seemed only that of an infant, and he would 
laugh and cry by turns at the smallest provocation. 

Dr. Mills made his daily visits to the cottage, but it 
was more for appearance than to be of any service. 
The stalwart countryman of the egg episode was also 
with him much of the time. Next to Grace he was the 
most welcome. The doctor found him familiar with 
disease and an adept at nursing the sick. 

Once he said, There was a great wrong done to the 
world, Mr. Countryman, when the people having you 
in charge in early life failed to discover your genius as 
a natural physician. Your admirable physique and 
magnificent nerve would have been the foundation for 
a physician and surgeon of the first-class. I dare say 
you have the nerve to cut a man’s head off with as 
much coolness as you would decapitate a chicken for 
dinner.” 

The old man on the bed heard this remark, and to 
the surprise of all in the room there was a gurgling 
laughter heard from his lips, and his eyes twinkled 
with amusement. 


10 


110 


STOLEN STEPS. 


Were I a physician/^ said Countryman, I would 
take the hint from such manifestations as these. That 
awakening of a sense of amusement in your patient is 
the best treatment you can devise as an aid to nature in 
effecting cures, when cures are possible. I would ex- 
clude medicine-bottles from the sick-room, and intro- 
duce the violin and jester, especially when the jester 
happens to be a doctor such as yourself, with blarney 
enough to administer taffy to patient and attendants, so 
as to develop good humor and amusement.” 

Time passed. Mr. Thomas Putnam and his mother 
finally appeared on the ground, for it was evident the 
sufferer could not last much longer. Tom was all ten- 
derness to the girl, and devoted in his efforts to be of 
service; but it was an awkward business for him. His 
mother was no less attentive and kind to father and 
daughter, and Grace could but feel that she had never 
appreciated the genuine goodness of her devoted aunt. 

The end came at last. It was a source of relief, for 
all knew his condition rendered the delay of the final 
summons an actual grief to the old man. He merely 
made his exit from the shattered ruins. The corpse 
was not the person who had started on the journey from 
St. Louis to visit his daughter. It remained for the 
vacated tenement to be removed. It was a mere inor- 
ganic mass of matter; the tenant that had given it 
interest and worth, that had animated the eye and face, 
was no longer there. He had journeyed into the Un- 
discovered Country. 


A LOVER ARMED WITH A STING, m 


CHAPTER XIIL 

A LOVER ARMED WITH A STING. 

On the same day that the elder Putnam died, Thomas 
requested a private interview with Grace. On retire- 
ment to a room for the purpose, the following dialogue 
occurred : 

Thomas : Grace, it is out of place for me to renew 
the subject of our conversation at the time I left here 
last. I only renew it because I feel that now, more 
than ever, you are in need of one who can be in part 
to you at least what poor uncle was. As you already 
know, he died before making a will. It is necessary 
for administration to be taken out at once. It is neces- 
sary for the business to be wound up by one having 
authority. Now, that time and experience have given 
you a chance to reflect, I urge you to reconsider the 
ofier I made you, and at this time open a way for me 
to act in such a manner that your happiness and future 
comfort will be secured. With one blessed word from 
your lips, all can be fixed and all will be well.^^ 

Grace : Cousin, you astonish and pain me more than 
j you can imagine. I had been encouraged by your kind- 
ness to me in my distress, in your devotion to my poor 
father, and by the answer I gave you, that it was as a 
relative you devoted yourself to our care. A word from 
; my lips can settle nothing. Now, more than ever, I 


112 


STOLEN STEPS, 


most solemnly assure you, my poor heart must be con- 
sulted. My lips must not be false to it. They would 
be false should I utter the little word you at this painful 
time urge me to speak. As to my father’s estate, I shall 
be glad to have you take the administration upon your- 
self. As I am the only heir ” 

Thomas : Grace, why will you drive me to an act of 
desperation ? An act that will indeed go to your heart, 
and possibly plant a sting that will cause life-long pain ?” 

Grace : Is the man who professes to love me capable 
of such an act V* 

Thomas : When love is changed into desperation, 
what will it not do ?” 

Grace : Mr. Putnam, you are too old, and belong 
to a school in which love is not so intense as to become 
madness, and you will not act a madman’s part. My 
conscience tells me that no act of my past life has been 
so improper as to cause me to suffer pain, when it is 
recalled or placed before the full gaze of the world. 
You have sought to win my love by a threat of ex- 
posure. You have made a mistake. I esteemed you 
before you made the threat. Have a care, or esteem 
may be changed into contempt, for the serpent that dares 
to prate of love with a tongue armed with a deadly sting. 
In heaven’s name, let us now and forever end this un- 
profitable conversation. If you truly love me, you will 

shield me with your life ” 

Thomas : And in return ” 

Grace: ^^If it were in my power to give you my 
heart I would do so ; but, as it is not in my power, your 
love to me would be proved by at least remaining worthy 
of the love you importune me to give you.” 


A LOVER ARMED WITH A STING, II3 


Thomas : You must not, then, be any one but your 
own self/^ 

Grace : Till I can give my heart truly, I will truly 
remain Grace Putnam.” 

Thomas: No ; only one way can you remain Grace 
Putnam. I can and will bestow on you that honored 
name by marriage. If you refuse, you must surrender 
the name. You are not the daughter of the old man 
who brought you up as his child.” 

Grace : Not hi — his — daughter ? Do you— do — 

you — ^you Oh, God ! Yes ! You will not, cannot 

be speaking such fearful words without knowledge. I 
am afraid I am beside myself. This is so sudden. His 
death was a sad loss ; you have made me thankful for 
the affliction of his death. He loved me ; therefore, in 
love he concealed from me the shame of my birth, and 
in his blessed home made me his own child, so far as 
was in his power. This was true love.” 

Thomas: “While your words are daggers, do not 
forget that the secret is still kept from the world. To 
it you still are, and ever will be, his daughter, on con- 
dition ” 

Grace : “ That I become the wife of Thomas Put- 
nam.” 

Thomas : “ Is the condition hard ? Only think. Is 
not my reputation irreproachable ? Is it not proof of 
my love that I am still willing to take you nameless, as 
in fact you are ?” 

Chace : “ And if I refuse the condition, what then ?” 

Thomas : “ Refusal is optional, but not necessary. In 
case of refusal, as sole heir of the late William Putnam, 
now deceased, and supposed to have been your father, 
h 10* 


114 


STOLEN STEPS, 


it will be my duty to return to St. Louis and apply for 
administration on the estate. That is why at this time, 
and with this unseemly haste 

Grace : Excuses are superfluous. With the loss of 
the name the loss of the estate is too trifling to mention. 
At least I have a conscience that makes no accusations 
against my character. If it please God to be on my 
side, I can bear all things better than the ignominy 
of voluntary marriage to a cold-blooded serpent which 
would in the name of love wind its slimy coils round 
my heart, and call me by the sacred name of wife. I 
am a child of sin, a waif rescued by the dear ones who 
became to me father and mother ; tenderly reared and 
loved by them, I shall still be worthy of the care they 
bestowed upon me. Who, pray, enlightened you as to 
my history ?” 

Thomas : Have no doubts as to the truth. My 
mother was there when the infant was left at the home 
of your mother, as infants of a certain kind are left. She 
kept the secret, as the family agreed to keep it under 
the mistaken belief that it would never become known 
to you. When I declared my love, even I was igno- 
rant 

Grace : Return, then, to your most aflectionate 

mother, and tell her for me that her fealty to the dead 
will be rewarded by the blessings of heaven. I took 
leave of my foster-father in that room where his last 
days on earth were spent. As his heir, be you the chief 
mourner, but do not expect me to bear you company. 
When the old friends ask for the daughter, have your 
amiable mother tell them of the betrayal of the secret 
trust confided to her ; and as for the doubly-orphaned 


A LOVER ARMED WITH A STING. 


115 


child, leave her to suffer with those who at least 

But pardon me! 1 am talking at random. The 
sting has indeed penetrated to my heart.^^ 

(Grace walks the floor distractedly, and finally buries 
her face in her hands, as she sinks in a seat and drops 
her head on a table.) 

Thomas (aside) ; I am a brute. Yes ; the very 
serpent she described. Why should mother betray the 
precious secret of the dead, to torment and crush the 
living? (He contemplates the girl, who is sobbing.) 
She is like the plant, giving forth the most exquisite 
odor when crushed. She hates me now, and I hate 
myself no less. To perdition with this devilish business I 
In her very distress she shines out of the gloom as a 
creature of heaven. So help me God ! I will be her 
shield. She is right. The poor old man, by the mis- 
fortune that incapacitated him, unintentionally left 
her intended fortune in my power. Curse me if I take 
advantage of his misfortune. (Approaching Grace and 
addressing her.) Grace, you have won the battle. You 
have revealed yourself as a being superior to the buffets 
of misfortune.^^ 

Here the speech of Thomas was broken, for there 
stood at the closed door, with ear near the key-hole, 
that respectable lady of whom Thomas spoke as the 
revealer of the startling secret. The let-down of her 
son meant the possible relinquishment of the estate. 
His weakness shocked her, and to prevent the misfortune, 
she abandoned the lady-like attitude of eavesdropper, 
and, with well-feigned ignorance of what had been heard, 
opened the door and walked in. Already the mourner’s 
weeds had been donned, and as she entered the room 


116 


STOLEN STEPS, 


there was an air of overwhelming sorrow in her face. 
At each side of her mouth there were lines running 
downward in a manner to betray a kind of down-in-the- 
mouth expression. 

Poor child she said, addressing the weeping girl, 
this is a grievous blow. Providence is inscrutable, 
but kind. My poor brother-in-law has been called 
hence, and we may trust that he is in the hands of an 
all-merciful Father. The poor body requires our care. 
We must do our duty and bear it to the cemetery, where 
we will all be in like manner borne when our time 
comes. Come with me, and I will do what I can to 
help you prepare for the sad journey.^’ 

Grace rose from her seat, and seemingly above her 
normal stature, and stood facing the soul-dwarfed old 
lady like a spirit of vengeance. She fixed her piercing, 
dark eyes on her, and there they rested in silence. 
Thomas saw the movement and the withering look, and 
in spite of motherly affection he gloried in the girl and 
felt an inexpressible loathing for his mother. Without 
uttering a word, Grace left the room and returned to 
the couch of death, beside which Alvin stood. Her 
limbs trembled, and she fell in his arms, colorless and 
limp as the mute form of the old man. 


HATTIE POWELL. 


117 


I 

CHAPTEE XIV. 

1 

HATTIE POWELL. 

When one is so near the denouement of a story, a decent 
I respect for the reader requires that, unless good cause 
can be shown, there should be an end at once. In this 
case the reader is assured that a good reason exists for 
introducing the incidents now to be narrated. They 
will be found to be essential links in the chain of facts 
upon which the story is founded. 

' Some forty years ago there stood in Fort Wayne 
a somewhat imposing edifice known as the Methodist 
' College. It is believed the institution long since ceased 
to exist, but there are hundreds of persons still living 
who were students within its walls. 

It was for the education of both sexes, and the pious 
founders believed they could so guard and surround it 
with godly and prudent professors that the sons and 
I daughters of the sectaries who established it could there 
receive an education without lacking that religious train- 
ing so essential to their spiritual and eternal well-being. 

I As a part of the institution, a young ladies’ boarding- 
j| house was established in the immediate precincts of this 
j' seat of learning. This was a kind of inner sanctuary 
j for young ladies. Study hours, the time for eating, time 
I for retirement, time for rising, and time for prayer were 
I carefully prescribed. Not only the time for eating, but 


118 


STOLEN STEPS. 


the hind of food was prescribed, and in all things the 
ruling idea was to develop on the part of the young 
ladies a disposition and capacity to counteract all natural 
impulses and make themselves perpetual sacrifices. The 
only difficulty on the part of the godly founders of the 
school was that the aforesaid young ladies were so 
tempted by the evil one that they were not disposed to 
ignore the impulses of their nature, and since they could 
not, under the regulations of the place, move in the 
natural grooves of their carnal nature, they did things 
that, under other circumstances, would never have been 
attempted. 

They had a wicked appetite for pies and the luxuries 
that were on occasions of unusual importance placed on 
the table, for display rather than consumption, except 
in small and very select quantities. If they resorted 
to theft and bribery of the servants to get these things, 
it was because that was the only way to get them. 

One of the young lady students in this boarding- 
house was Hattie Powell. She was the personification 
of fun and frolic. Her parents had died of chills and 
fever on Eel River when she was but ten years old, 
leaving her a small patrimony. It was taken charge 
of by her uncle. Deacon Graveman, and, as an incident, 
he took Hattie into the bosom of his family. In her 
country home in the valley of Eel River the child had 
led a free and usually happy life. True, she, in com- 
mon with the custom of that country, lost her spirits 
and moped in subdued, shadow-like form during dog- 
days, and acquired a ravenous appetite for quinine ; but 
aside from this she was as lively and contented as the 
squirrels that leaped from branch to branch among the 


HATTIE POWELL. 


I 

i 


119 


I hickory-trees, under which she gathered the nuts in 
autumn. 

I When she appeared for the first time at her uncle’s 
^ home in Wabash, she was not attractive with her saffron 
j face and diminutive form. 

Mrs. Graveman was motherly and meek. At first 
I the child was trying to this aunt. She was liable to 
disappear at the most unexpected time. On one occa- 
I sion the deacon was seated with his family at the supper- 
table, — supper promptly at 6 P.M. It was a rule that 
I the Almighty must wait for the expected grace till liis 
devout worshipper should see every seat at the table 
occupied. The chair of the small girl of saffron com- 
plexion was vacant. 

Mother,” said the devout man, as he bent his cold, 
gray eyes on the meek woman addressed (he always 
spoke of her in class meeting as his beloved com- 
panion”), mother, where is Harriet ?” 

I cannot tell, father.” 

The Lord, by his providential dispensation, has 
made you her keeper, mother, and he will require you 
to give an account of your stewardship.” 

While the solemn deacon yet spoke the orphan ap- 
peared. For the saffron there was on her cheek the 
faint tinge of the dew-kissed rose, and the eye, that was 
I erstwhile of a yellowish hue, was clear and joyous. 

I Harriet,” said the man of God, who was about to 
I invoke Divine mercy, ‘^retire at once to your room. 
You have broken my rule, and you must be punished. 
You will do without your supper, and you must read 
at least three chapters in the Bible, beginning at Luke 
; X. 1 .” 

1 


120 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Yes, sir/' 

That night was Wednesday evening prayer-meeting, 
but Mrs. Graveman was too indisposed to go with the 
never-failing deacon. When that devout saint left, the 
meek wife went into the pantry, procured a bowl of 
milk, and placed it on the dish with the cold chicken 
she had taken, but failed to eat, when at table. (She 
lost her appetite when the faint yes, sir," of the child 
was heard.) Placing on this dish a liberal cut of cust- 
ard pie, and taking the dish and bowl of milk upon it 
in one hand and a candle in the other, she sought the 
attic-room where Hattie slept. She found her prostrate 
on the floor, sound asleep, her head resting on her thin, 
delicate hands, and raven, curly locks falling over her 
white forehead and pale cheeks. 

She knelt by the sleeping orphan and offered a prayer. 
No words were articulated. It was one of those prayers 
offered in the closet of a weary and heavy-laden soul. 
Tears glowed on her cheeks as they coursed down the 
sad passage. One of them fell on the face of the sleep- 
ing child. She opened her dark eyes. They were 
radiant. 

Oh, auntie ! such a sweet dream ! I thought 
mother was here. She did not look sick and weak, but 
so bright and happy. You look ever so much as she 
used to, auntie." 

Yes, dear ; we looked very much alike. You have 
just seen her, and she looked bright and happy. Do 
you think she could be happy if she knew her darling 
were naughty and disobedient ?" 

Not for all the world would I make her unhappy. 
She never gave me a chance. She liked fun as well as 


HATTIE POWELL. 


121 


I 

i 

I I did, and it seems to me, now that she is gone, she 
often laughed to keep me from crying. You know 
I both her and father had the dreadful ague chills every 
other day, — one day mamma, and the next day father, 
j When mamma’s day would come, she would get up 
early in the morning and get father’s breakfast, and 
j have the dishes washed, and when this was done she 
would warm her bedclothes, — hot as the weather was, — 
i give me directions about dinner, and while she was 
i giving me my directions her lips would look blue and 
I could see her shiver ; but she would laugh at the 
ridiculous idea of making such a fuss about having a 
chill, and then she would go to bed and send me out to 
play. The next day she would act as though nothing 
, had happened to her, and she would get father’s bed 
warmed and fixed for him, to take to it w^hen the chill 
came on. She would joke him about the convenience 
of having separate days, and tell him they would wear 
it out after awhile. Why, auntie ! Did you bring that 
pie and chicken up to your naughty child ! How could 
you disobey uncle?” 

Child, eat it ; never mind asking questions.” 

It was so good of you, auntie ; but it was too bad 
i to put you to so much trouble. I ate my supper at 
Mrs. Wheeler’s.” 

i Then it was no punishment, after all, to send you 
j up here. I felt dreadful to see it, and couldn’t rest 
I until I could come to you. But where have you been 
all day ? It gave me a great deal of anxiety when I 
1 found you were gone, I knew not where.” 

I The child put her arms around her aunt’s neck and 
i caressed her. 


11 


122 


STOLEN STEPS. 


“ I deserved to be punished, so I did, to give you 
pain. Please forgive me. I was so thoughtless. I got 
so lonesome in this big house I wanted to get out as I 
used to in the country. I started to get away from the 
house and people. After walking on and on I found 
the dear old forest, and on I kept along the road till I 
heard the falling of water. I went to see what it was. 
Oh, auntie ! what a beautiful place I found. The creek 
came dashing down through the woods as merrily as the 
birds and squirrels in the trees, and all at once it came 
to a jumping-ofif place, and away it leaped down into 
a boiling pool. And then it went on its way just as 
though the tearing jump it had made hadn’t hurt it a 
bit, if it did tear it all to pieces. It just gathered itself 
together and went singing on its way as if nothing had 
happened. It made me think of mother. I sat down 
and watched it, and felt as if I would like to stay 
always. At first the birds and squirrels seemed shy of 
me, but after a while they got over that, and it was such 
fun to see the squirrels curl their bushy tails over their 
backs and bark at me. I started home in good time, 
but as I was passing Mr. Wheeler’s I saw baby in the 
window, and it looked so sweet I just had to go in to 
give it one tiny kiss. I found Mrs. Wheeler was not 
well, and Mr. Wheeler was just finishing her washing. 
Wasn’t it queer to see a real gentleman rubbing out 
clothes over a wash-tub ? She said he had been in court 
nearly all day trying a case. I tried to get her to tell 
me what that meant, but couldn’t understand her. The | 
court, she said, was in the big old house over on the hill, j 
They have a man on a big, high bench, and she says j 
while he sits on it he is the court. He sits all day on j 


HATTIE POWELL, 


123 


that big bench, and Mr. Wheeler and some other law- 
yers make speeches to him, and to some other man on 
a low bench, and they go on that way all day. It must 
be a queer life. And then when Mr. Wheeler gets 
through there, he comes home and helps finish the 
washing. 

Mrs. Wheeler says he always helped her with the 
washing. Well, that baby was just too cunning for 
anything ; and I kept it while Mrs. Wheeler got supper 
ready, and when it was ready, don^t you believe she 
just made me take otf my hat and stay to supper with 
them. She said baby would feel bad if I didn’t stay. 
Mrs. Wheeler is an awful good woman. She said she 
knew mother when she was a girl. Did you know her 
too, auntie?” 

Yes, dear ; she is a good woman, and if there ever 
was a man worshipped his wife that man is John M. 
Wheeler. He saves her all the trouble he can, and 
never says an ill-natured word.” 

Does he belong to the church, auntie ?” 

^^No, Hattie; neither he nor Mrs. Wheeler have 
ever been converted. Your uncle thinks his example 
is very bad.” 

Oh, auntie ; I wouldn’t have him converted for 
anything.” 

You wicked heathen ; what do you mean ?” 

Why, uncle has been converted, and if Mr. Wheeler 
should be, it might make him like uncle. That would 
make Mrs. Wheeler as unhappy as you are.” 

‘^Do you really think I am unhappy, child?” 

Don’t I see it every day ? I want you to walk out 
with me and see the beautiful place I told you about. 


124 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Mrs. Wheeler says it is Charley’s Falls. May be, at 
the sight of it, you will enjoy it and think of mother, 
too. Won’t you go with me, dear auntie? How very 
sorry I am that I gave you trouble.” 

Indeed, I will go with you, my precious one. No 
wonder my blessed sister could laugh in the face of 
adversity and affliction. Her little daughter was the 
inspiration. She is bound to do her best to make her 
poor auntie happy. This time she has succeeded. God 
bless and keep you from harm and sorrow.” 

With this benediction the meek, sad- faced woman 
took up the dish she had brought into the room and 
was about to retire, but the child timidly called her 
back. 

Auntie,” she said, you have forgotten the three 
chapters in the Bible.” 

No, dear ; not forgotten. I cannot make the blessed 
word of our heavenly Father a rod of punishment. 

I have not forgotten.” 

But, auntie, it won’t be punishment when you read. 

I know it will make me think of dear mother. She 
used to read to me and tell me stories.” 

I will be glad to read to you if you wish it ; but 
wait till I take these things down.” 

With a pang of anguish the child could not fail to 
see, the wife of the deacon carefully gathered up the 
supper she had brought to the child and carried it 
down-stairs. The Christian woman was not only prac- ‘ 
tising deceit, but practising it in the performance of 
an act of mercy and love. The Christian deacon had 
heaped this burden on her drooping shoulders in the 
name of the merciful, all-loving Father. i 


HATTIE POWELL. 


125 


This chapter of the domestic life of the orphan is a 
sample of the life she led at the home of her uncle. 

Hattie and her aunt became loving companions. 
Mrs. Graveman’s own children were grown up, and 
they were by no means bright and shining marks. 
Compulsory Christianity has never been a suc- 
cess. The austerity of home had driven the boys to 
more enjoyable resorts. The saloon and card-table 
w’ere never furnished with faces of the order of Deacon 
Graveman. The boys went to the bad, but the deacon 
still trusted that he would be blessed and happy in the 
bright land of promise, though the boys should be 
consigned to perdition. The mother had no such ex- 
alted notions. Her tender heart bore up for a while ; 
and it bore up because this sweet flower from the gar- 
den of her deceased sister had been transplanted to her 
bosom. 

It was a sad day for the orphan when the solemn 
cortege conveyed the inanimate body of her aunt to 
the cheerless cemetery on the bleak, desolate hill in the 
outskirts of Wabash. 

In less than a year after this event, the sanctimoni- 
ous deacon installed a companion’^ number two in his 
domestic establishment. 

Hattie could not find a way to the heart of this 
companion” of her uncle. The uncle himself was 
equally unsuccessful. Heaven seemed to have so con- 
structed her that she could get along without this organ, 
and just such a person was best suited to be the wife 
and companion of the husband she had taken to her- 
self. With him she obtained a home and position in 
the church. In godliness she excelled her husband. 

11 * 


126 


STOLEN STEPS. 


Home was secondary. The cause was primary. Things 
seen were of less importance than things unseen. 

It was wonderful how Hattie had matured. She 
was now fourteen, and her limbs had rounded out, and 
her body almost all at once developed into that of a 
robust, vigorous young lady. The sallow face had been 
transformed into one of delicate marble whiteness, while 
under the clear skin the pulsing blood bounded with 
the vigor and glow of perfect health. Over her shoul- 
ders fell dark, clustering curls, of which the girl was 
particularly proud. More than once the new mistress 
of the establishment detected her standing before the 
glass adjusting these vain adornments of the sinful, 
earthy body. 

One day, this fervent devotee of spiritual beauty, 
armed with sharp, shining sheai’s, ordered the girl to 
be seated. What do you want demanded the young 
lady, trembling for her precious curls. 

^ If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out,^ says our 
divine Master. Be seated.^^ 

The girl was so surprised and overcome that, hardly 
realizing what she was doing, she obeyed the stern 
woman, and in a trice her curls were hopelessly gone. 
Her hair was clipped short. But it was the last con- 
quest of wife number two over the girl. No persuasion 
could ever induce Hattie to speak to her again. Si- 
lently she performed her daily duties as usual, but no 
effort on the part of the woman could win a word or 
look, save a look of undisguised hatred. Even the 
austere deacon felt that an outrage had been perpetrated, 
but he was himself no longer master of the establish- 
ment. His companion,’’ so fortunate in her construe- 


HATTIE POWELL, 


127 


tion in the matter of heart, was regular as clock-work 
in all her religious duties, and in the church she had 
almost supplanted the deacon. 

There was no alternative but to send the girl away. 
She was sent to the Methodist College at Fort Wayne. 


128 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER XV. 

STOLEN STEPS. 

Only one thing distressed Hattie when it was deter- 
mined she should be sent off to school, — her hair, after 
the shears of the gentle companion’^ of her uncle had 
done their work and the much-admired curls were shorn. 
The evenly-cut remnant of hair remaining rose up in 
protest. In vain the child coaxed and brushed, oiled 
and pressed the disturbed and ruffled shafts that once 
were the base of the glossy curls. They pointedly re- 
fused to succumb. They fairly snarled in response to 
the efforts on the part of the girl to make them lie in 
smooth and orderly composure on her despoiled head. 
In her desperation she visited her faithful friend, Mrs. 
Wheeler. That lady was something of an adept in 
the line of hair-dressing. She at once detected the 
possibility of heaping coals of fire on the head of the 
despoiler. Taking her scissors, she deftly trimmed and 
adjusted the projecting shafts so that their manifest dis- 
position to disregard order was encouraged, and out of 
this very disorder an idea of beauty in dishevelled, 
glossy, black, kinky locks was eliminated and developed. 
The even-ended, projecting shafts, rising in bristling 
protest, disappeared, and out of the disorder there came 
forth a magnificently poised little head, crowned with 
the most bewitching locks, black as jet, and in the 


STOLEN STEPS, 


129 


abandonment of freedom kinking and curling into a 
style of beauty that altogether surpassed the original 
orderly display. Thick, short ringlets in jaunty aban- 
don hung over, but did not conceal, the broad alabaster 
forehead and delicately-arched brows ; while the bru- 
nette face seemed almost blonde in contrast with the 
raven ringlets. Through the brown skin of the cheeks 
the bloom appeared in subdued tints, harmonizing ad- 
mirably with the contrasted color of hair, brows, and 
forehead. The thin mobile nostrils and small mouth 
suggested keenness of sensibility, while the firmness of 
the lips, and the prominent, square, but not ungraceful 
chin, suggested latent power and resolution. But there 
was, at this time, an appearance of innocence and un- 
consciousness in her expression and manner that evinced 
absolute ignorance of that strange world in embryotic 
existence in the inner incorporeal being of the child. 

When Mrs. Wheeler had completed her loving minis- 
tration, and the child stood in delighted astonishment 
before the mirror, that good woman took her in her 
arms with motherly tenderness, not unmixed with 
motherly anxiety for the orphan about to be sent 
among strangers, and subjected to trials and temp- 
tations about which she knew nothing, and to meet 
which she had never been prepared. 

When Hattie returned to the place misnamed home’^ 
she found her spiritual-minded aunt in conversation 
with Elder Lemon, the general soliciting agent of the 
Fort Wayne Methodist College. Brother Lemon was 
a kind, liberal, broad-minded, big-hearted minister. 
His face at once won the heart of the girl, and his 
critical eye took in her beauty and unripeness at a 
i 


130 


STOLEN STEPS. 


glance. She was to accompany him to Fort Wayne, 
and was instructed to get ready at once. When she 
went up-stairs for this purpose, Brother Lemon said to 
the gentle sister who was entertaining him, — 

It seems to me that is the material for a splendid 
woman.’^ 

As proud and vain as she can be, Brother Lemon. 
You know how hard it is to get the young to walk 
humbly before God. Feeling anxious to lead her to 
the true conception of the duty of plucking out an eye 
when it offends, I felt it my duty to cut off the curls 
that were really very handsome, and that made her 
wickedly vain. Her haughty spirit rose against me, 
and, do you believe, the evil one has inspired her to 
refuse to speak to me since. Oh, Brother Lemon, we . 
who strive to do our duty and bear the cross of our 
Master find the burden heavy. 

But, sister, the birds have beautiful plumage. Do 
you think God made a mistake in creating things of 
beauty and imparting to us a sense of beauty ? How- 
ever, curls are common, and though they may be beau- 
tiful, the possessor is not specially noticed, because many 
other girls are adorned in like manner ; but that girl 
has got the best of you. That head of hair, as it now 
appears, is a wonderful superiority over the curls. It ; 
is so rare and becoming. Few girls could submit to 
the loss of their curls and come out the gainers in mere " 
matter of personal beauty. Let us, sister, accept the ji 
handiwork of God as designed for use, and not burden : 
ourselves with vain repining on account of the beauty . 
with which our Father has clothed his daughters. More 
important is it that we strive to beautify the life so 


STOLEN STEPS, 131 

that it will harmonize with this outward adornment of 
nature/^ 

In due time the elder and Hattie were aboard the 
packet for Fort Wayne. All was novelty and interest 
to the child. Seated on deck, she watched the three 
packet-horses trot along the tow-path, drawing the pas- 
senger-laden packet. At the old town of La Gro, the 
great bridge across the Wabash loomed overhead as she 
passed as a thing of the most stupendous dimensions. 
There, too, she saw the large dam that served to feed 
the canal, and she was borne into the lock, and in a 
curious manner lifted up by the filling water on the 
opening of the upper gate and closing of the lower 
one. The elder explained everything to her, and she 
felt fortunate in having so kind and communicative a 
companion. At a lock above La Gro, while the boat 
was being passed through, she walked with the elder on 
the walls of the structure. The gatekeeper was thin, 
hollow-cheeked, and bloodless. His teeth even then 
chattered with the incipient chill. This was a familiar 
sight to the young lady. 

Said the kind elder to him, Do you have the chills 
and fever here very badly ?” 

Not here,’^ was the response ; but they shake like 
hell up at the ten-mile level.^^ 

The bright eye of the girl caught that of the elder, 
and she detected a glimmer of humor that delighted 
her ; for the poor child had imbibed, through associa- 
tion with her uncle, the fallacious idea that candidates 
for heaven must suppress all humor and joyfulness, and 
elongate their faces into images of repulsive aspect. 

On reaching Fort Wayne, our young lady was con- 


132 


STOLEN STEPS. 


ducted by the good elder to the boarding-house con- 
nected with the institution. As she parted with him at 
the door she felt that she was parting with an old friend ; 
but Elder Lemon was an active and, what in the West 
would be called a rustling/^ man. His duties called 
him away, and the child was now in the hands of the 
matron of the great boarding-house. This woman did 
not prepossess the young lady, for in her appearance 
and manner she reminded her of the other woman who 
had shorn her darling curls. With wonderful quick- 
ness Hattie resolved to stand on her guard. No woman 
would ever again surprise her into submission as did 
the one she had such reason to remember with loathing, j 
The introduction into the boarding-house was not ! 
under favorable auspices for the well-being of the new 
student. 

The fifty young ladies constituting her fellow-boarders ^ 
were not only strangers, but strange, to the unsophisti- 
cated girl of fifteen. Unfortunately, her room-mate |! 
was the daughter of strict religious parents, and had by 
the home discipline been alienated from, rather than 
drawn to, the elevating and refining principles that !• 
underlie and ennoble Christianity. 

Both girls had learned to gain the enjoyments of the 
young by stealth, as things forbidden and sinful, not » 
only in the estimation of their parents, but in the sight l>j 
of God. Putting the two together increased their ad- N 
vantages in the matter of carrying on contraband I 
employments. Alice Ketchum, her room-mate, was I 
at least a year older than Hattie; her parents were | 
abundantly provided with money, and the child was not i 
financially neglected by the good people at home, who '[ 


STOLEN STEPS, 


133 


felt that the guardianship of the brethren at the college 
would be such as to shield their daughter from the con- 
tamination of the world. 

Hattie was so quick to learn that she found no diffi- 
culty with her studies. This gave her a prestige and 
made her a favorite with her teachers. Her style of 
beauty was so unique and striking that she became the 
observed of all observers. By degrees, she not only 
learned the lessons in the books of the curriculum, but 
a great deal that was not in the books. 

Dancing was forbidden as something wicked and 
calculated to advance the prospering interests of 
Satan. Music, however, was an art to be cultivated 
assiduously by the girls. Their delicate fingers could 
be trained to play the piano, but the feet were forbidden 
to respond to the influence of the rhythm and harmony 
of the instrument. 

The chapel was on the third floor of the college. 
Several pianos were in rooms adjoining, and the girls 
I were encouraged to rise early in the morning and repair 
I to them for practice. Here was a way devised by Satan 
( to gain recruits. How nice it would be to get up a 
dancing-school on the sly, by repairing to this chapel 
early in the morning to practice on the pianos ? Some 
,1 of the girls had already learned the forbidden art, and 
I could teach the others. Then why not have some of 
i the boys? The society of girls is dull, and that of 
j boys — oh, how delightful ! So it came about that the 
I, sprightly, pretty girl of short, raven locks was initiated 
I into the school of disobedience, and by stolen steps 
I acquired the fascinating accomplishment of dancing. 
' Some of the students who had graduated, and knew all 
12 


134 


STOLEN STEPS. 


the reports,” were smuggled into the chapel to join in 
these forbidden exercises. Among these was Henry H. 
Smith. He was a young man of twenty-two, of pre- 
possessing appearance and impressible heart. 

His father had at one time been a leading tradesman 
of Fort Wayne, but dissipation had undermined his 
faculties and credit, so that at about the time Henry 
graduated, his father failed in business. Brought up 
in the morally enervating influence of a home in which 
servants were at his service and money at his disposal, 
he knew no want save that of ability to restrain his 
appetites. Home was no place for him, for home was 
the abode of austere morality, notwithstanding the 
private indulgences of the father, and morality included 
the exclusion of card-playing, dancing, and pretty much 
everything that the young are disposed to indulge in. 
When a small boy, he was a faithful attendant of the 
church and Sabbath-school. It was remembered that 
he memorized Bible passages by the chapter, and could 
answer all questions with extreme readiness. Later on, 

he found that Tom Hanna, Ed , and other young 

bloods belonging to the most wealthy and influential 
families of Fort Wayne, looked on the Sabbath-school 
as a good-goody kind of an institution, well enough for 
women and children, but hardly the thing for big boys. 
He gradually dropped out of the habit of attending 
Sabbath-school and church, and it was in vain for his 
parents to attempt to compel him to attend. He was 
too old for that sort of thing. With his chums he 
would linger late at night over the card-table, and 
not unfrequently indulge in ^Mrinks.” In order of 
time the drinks degenerated into drunks, and the high- 


STOLEN STEPS. 


135 


toned, moral element of Fort Wayne society sighed 
that Harry Smith was in a bad way, and forbade their 
sons and daughters to associate with him. His grand- 
father had left him a small sum of three or four thou- 
sand dollars, and on coming of age this was placed at 
his disposal. It was a matter of surprise that it was 
not at once squandered, but being of a business turn 
of mind he, for a time, braced up, and with influences 
of the kind that might have been exerted, it is possible 
his reform would have been permanent, but the in- 
fluences were unfortunate. His old boon companions 
were assiduous in their attentions. The drinks were 
pressed upon him, and the good people who did not 
drink prayed to God for the heathen and the general 
hastening of the millennium, but when they met Harry 
on the street they had for him no encouraging word and 
no friendly invitation to visit their homes. The in- 
fluence on their dear ones at home would be deleteri- 
ous, and possibly it would. To the saloon no invita- 
tion was required so long as his money held out. The 
old habit regained its hold, and the old chums hung 
upon him like barnacles on a ship. This was the young 
man, among others, who gained the mMe of the morn- 
ing dancing-school in the chapel of the Methodist 
College. 

Hattie had become proficient in the art of deception, 
and it was for the fun of it, as much as anything else, 
that she encouraged the advancements of this young 
profligate. She did not, in fact, know that he was a 
profligate, for he was really in love with her, — earnest, 
deep love, — love that sobered and transported him into 
an element of nobility of feeling and purpose. His 


136 


STOLEN STEPS. 


treatment of her was tender and gentlemanly, as she 
understood those terms, but her understanding of them 
was confused. Not only did she dance with him at 
the chapel, but, thanks to the kind-hearted cook in her 
boarding-house, she managed to rise when her guardi- 
ans supposed she was sleeping the sleep of the just, and 
steal out of the house by the way of the kitchen, and 
attend social dances and public balls in the company 
of this admirer. There was a fascination in this suc- 
cessful evasion of the stern guardians of the place, and 
a still greater fascination in the young man who wor- 
shipped her in the most devoted way imaginable, a way 
that thrilled her own heart with a responsive sentiment. 
The upshot was that on one bright morning in J une, 
when the girl was only a little more than seventeen 
years of age, she was missing in the classes of the col- 
lege, and the gay young Smith was likewise missing. 

By the mysterious means that mad love devises to 
evade the law, the girl and young scapegrace stole into 
matrimony, as Hattie had stolen all the sweets of en- 
joyment she had ever experienced. Harry had still 
some means at his disposal, and, allured by the glowing 
accounts from Minnesota, the girl-wife and her devoted 
husband sought a home on the south middle branch of 
the Zumbro, in that aspiring North State. 


AT WASIOJA. 


137 


CHAPTER XVL 

AT WASIOJA. 

An overland trip by stage of something over one 
hundred and twenty-five miles westward from La 
Crosse, tended to develop in Smith and his young wife 
an aptitude to appreciate the royal welcome extended to 
them when they alighted from the stage at the Wasioja 
hotel, by the proprietor. Curt Moses. 

The person who has failed to meet and from the ac- 
quaintance of Curt Moses has failed to form the ac- 
quaintance of one of the most accomplished of gentle- 
men in appearance and address. At the time he received 
our weary travellers he was about thirty-five years of 
age, and in the meridian of his enterprise of speculation 
in Wasioja town-lots. It had proved a great financial 
success. In person Moses was slender and lean. While 
nature had been niggardly in the matter of flesh and 
bone, she had been unusually prodigal in the supply of 
nerve in his composition. The most observable trait 
of this unusually noticeable man was a cat-like litheness 
in movement, and, on acquaintance, he was found to 
possess a corresponding mental quality that enabled 
him to ransack all the hidden places in the conscious- 
ness of people in whose affairs he might be interested, 
without exciting the least suspicion on the part of the per- 
son in question that his mental establishment had been 
12 * 


138 


STOLEN STEPS. 


ransacked. His keen, and apparently kindly, hazel eye 
was wonderfully fascinating as it peered upon you from 
a thin face all aglow with interest in your personal wel- 
fare. Habituated as he was to rough frontier life, he 
retained and displayed all the scrupulousness of dress 
that is supposed to specially characterize the well-to-do 
gentleman of society. His voice was soft and low, and 
lulled his new acquaintances into the gentle repose of 
confidence. He had seen a great deal of the world, and 
experienced many of the ups and downs of it. But if 
dame Nature had been niggardly in the matter of flesh 
and bone in his composition, she had been far more 
parsimonious in providing those organs which are sup- 
posed to be the seat of truth and honesty. To have 
subjected him to punishment for his moral delinquen- 
cies would have been as unmerciful as the punishment 
of my lady’s pug-pup that may have purloined her 
best hat and devoured the birds and trimmings on it. 
But this wolf-man had accomplished the masterly feat 
of so adjusting himself in the habiliment of the scrip- 
tural sheep that the unsuspecting stranger would have 
taken him for an innocent estray from the home fold, 
subject in his unshepherd wanderings in this prairie 
wilderness to imminent perils. 

Curt Moses was the chief proprietor of the town-site 
of Wasioja, a very prepossessing-looking little village 
on the border of a forest fringing one of the numerous 
branches of the Zumbro River, in a part of Southern 
Minnesota which, at the time here referred to, was 
chiefly in a state of nature. 

On the evening of the arrival of our travellers, after 
they had partaken of supper (strangely sumptuous for 


AT WASIOJA. 


139 


the place), and retired to a commodious room lavishly 
and expensively furnished, they were visited by their 
most attentive host. 

You are fortunate,’^ he said, in that lullaby tone of 
his, reaching Wasioja in your search for a new 
home in the West. I would advise you not to be in a 
hurry about locating. We will try to make you at 
home here while you look round. The woods are just 
swarming with lying town-site snides, who lie awake 
of nights studying how to take in strangers. Hope 
you will like Wasioja. Only an infant of two or three 
years’ growth. Not much of a place yet, but we try to 
make people feel at home with us. Of course, I am 
hardly the person to brag up the place ; ’twould be a good 
deal like boasting of myself ; for Wasioja seems a part 
of myself. When I came to the country. Southern 
Minnesota was an uninhabited wild. I had about all 
of it to pick from, and this was my choice, and is still 
my first love. I would not have stuck my stakes 
here if it had not been an A No. 1 site for a town, in my 
opinion.” 

Unfolding a well-worn map of Minnesota, he pro- 
ceeded : “ Here you see the great land-grant railroad 
extending westward from Winona by the way of Roches- 
ter, Owatonna, and St. Peter, through the richest part 
of the State, and finally will let up on the Pacific coast. 
These towns I have named are made points on the road 
by the Act of Congress granting the land. You notice 
that Wasioja is on an air-line with these places, and 
can’t be left out on that account without making a 
crooked and longer line. Here is Rice Lake, twelve 
miles west of us, — a splendid body of water, — and here 


140 


STOLEN STEPS. 


is the branch of the Zumbro flowing from it, and at 
this place doing what I take it you have been doing/^ 

I don’t understand you/’ said Smith, with a puzzled 
look. 

I will explain,” answered the smiling host : here 
from the loved home of the lake comes the winsome little 
river, with the water-lilies decking her bosom, and 
down among the green meadows that skirt her limpid 
form she glides in maiden loveliness; while here, in 
solitary meditations and tranquil peace, wends the for- 
est-shaded Zumbro till he reaches this place, where, for 
the first time he hears the sweet, murmuring voice of 
the beautiful daughter of the lake, and is enamored. 
They naturally take to each other, and here, on the site 
of Wasioja, are married.” 

Oh !” exclaimed Mrs. Smith, her pretty face sufiused 
with a blush. 

You are the kind of people that are all the time 
making homes in Minnesota, — the kind to make her a 
State.” 

The eyes of the husband and wife met, and there was 
a vision of home and happiness; while in the mellow, 
benevolent eye of Moses arose the delightful vision of 
money in the possession of these guests around whom 
he was weaving his spider-like web. 

But,” continued the deft spider, marriage brings 
its responsibilities. When the daughter of the lake 
brought to the Zumbro her dowry of water, Mr. Zumbro 
at once assumed an importance and possessed a capacity 
for usefulness you will appreciate when you see the dam 
Mr. Atherton is building to utilize this magnificent 
power in running a flour-mill. You will further under- 


AT WASIOJA, 


141 


stand the wealth of this dower when you come to dis- 
cover that this is the last available water-power of the 
upper Zumbro, and that you will travel fifty miles west, 
and at least forty miles south or north, before finding 
another. Here, too, you find the last stone-supply as 
you travel westward, seventy-five miles to Mankato. 
These are only a few of the great advantages of this 
place. These advantages, without abundant capital, 
would do little good. We have looked out for that. 

We have been careful to induce responsible capital- 
ists to take hold with us. Mr. Atherton is already on 
the ground, with ample means to complete a first-class 
mill. We have a number of other important enter- 
prises on the list of good things which we are confident 
will materialize. We are not developing a Jonah’s 
gourd. We are making haste slowly, but surely. We 
want investors with us to take a look for themselves 
before they give us their money for Wasioja property. 
You know it is mighty easy for one to get rid of 
money.” 

The next day our adventurers looked round. On 
the surface appearances were as deceptive as the master 
conjurer who had created them. There was an air of 
business and enterprise so apparently real and genuine 
that the stranger would not even have suspected that 
what he saw was but the illusive phantasm of this 
shrewdest and cunningest of deceivers. His big store 
opposite his hotel was doing a rushing business ; his 
substantial stone building, erected and used for his bank, 
was thronged during banking-hours with intelligent- 
looking men depositing their money over his black 
walnut counter, and intrusting him with authority to 


142 


STOLEN STEPS. 


purchase real property or make loans on mortgage secu- 
rity. The fine church, on a picturesque, suburban ele- 
vation, was a standing advertisement that at least in 
this place religion had its appropriate sanctuary. On 
another suburban hill rose the massive stone walls of 
the Northwestern College. The Wasioja Gazette ap- 
peared weekly with fresh news of new and promising 
business enterprises in the rising metropolis of the 
upper Zumbro. Only once did Charley Blaisdell, the 
publisher, fall into disrepute in the estimation of the 
great man who bore the burden of the expense of pub- 
lishing the Gazette; it was well-nigh a fatal disaster 
both to the publisher and patron. It all resulted from 
the inexcusable act on the part of the editor of inserting 
in the local columns of the Gazette the fact that, on the 
fourth of July, sprightly Jack Frost had put in an 
appearance. Fortunately, the omnipresent Moses dis- 
covered this rash blunder in time to suppress the edition, 
so that the numerous friends in the East, to whom the 
bulk of the weekly edition was usually sent, failed to 
receive at least one number of the Gazette. 

Nearly all these improvements and business enter- 
prises were developed and continued with money fur- 
nished by Moses. It was his boast that what he put in, 
in productive business or public improvements, would 
be the making of Wasioja and the honest people who 
had invested their money in the place. 

I always feel,’^ he said to Smith, as he was showing 
him round, I always feel that, even if considered in a 
business way, the best plan to build myself up is to do 
it in such a way that I can be a support to my friends 
and neighbors. By that means I acquire a prop that 


AT WASIOJA, 


143 


will be most reliable. When my edifice serves the pur- 
pose of upholding the structure of my neighbor, my 
neighbor will have an interest in preserving mine for 
his own advantage.^^ 

But this expenditure of money was no depletion of 
the funds of this genius of modern public spirit. What 
he expended was but a meagre fraction of what he had 
obtained from the unfortunate people who had listened 
to his charming lullaby. When these dupes were finally 
aroused from repose on his bosom and called on him for 
an accounting, they found that the investments he had 
made for them had invariably produced feathers for his 
nest, and that all the birds of promise he turned over to 
them had been — denuded. 

Moses was one of the pioneers in a vocation now quite 
common in Western cities. It consists in advertising 
one’s self as a real estate and financial agent.” There 
is so much in the name with which you dub an employ- 
ment. As financial agent” one could receive money 
for investment in real property, and as ‘^real estate 
agent” he could undertake to sell land for the owner, 
and the owner might be his silent partner owning real 
property which he would be glad to sell for five thousand 
dollars, but which he can sell to this financial agent” 
for ten thousand ; having, as you see, a snug sum to 
divide with the financial agent.” Of course, there 
must be the proverbial honesty expected to prevail 
among thieves, and which does in fact prevail, with 
wonderful punctilio. 

This financial agent also intuitively grasped the idea 
of syndicates. Only get fifteen or twenty men to club 
together, and make up a joint fund, and put it in the 


144 


STOLEN STEPS. 


hands of the financial agent to invest in real estate, 
when real estate is on a booming rise. These little sums 
which each member of the syndicate puts in are too 
small to be looked after by the confiding dupe who makes 
the contribution, but in the aggregate they swell the 
income of the financial agent amazingly. 

The faith of this class of real estate and financial 
agents in the credulity and gullibility of mankind is 
not misplaced. In a population of sixty millions there 
are at least the thousands who can be depended on, and 
so the wolf-man and the man-spider wax wealthy. 

In the evening, while seated in the hotel parlor with 
our acquaintances and other guests who had lately arrived, 
the genial Moses, in the course of conversation, said. 
One has to keep his eye peeled in this new country, if 
he expects to keep out of the grip of unscrupulous 
speculators who are prowling round seeking whom to 
devour. Now there is that glib Frank Mantor who has 
been cackling over the egg of a town-site he has named 
after himself, — Mantorville, — four miles down the river 
from here. I looked over the place before locating here. 
My partner. Squire Waterman, at that time owned the 
entire place. He had the sense to see that it was so 
situated that the high bluffs to the south and east of it 
made it inaccessible by a railroad, and was glad to give 
it away for a mere song, and take an interest in Wasioja 
with me, where the bluffs kindly bow their heads to a 
level with the plain, and invite the iron horse to cross 
the river and make his way up the north side of the 
river, where nature has already provided an almost 
straight and level road-bed. Mantor knows as well as I 
know that Mantorville, as a town-site, is a bad egg ; but 


AT WASIOJA. 


145 


he is a fox, and what he don’t know in the art of de- 
ception is not worth knowing. He has his stool-pigeons 
out, and they are finely trained.” 

Mr. Moses,” broke in Mrs. Smith, I hate to ex- 
pose my ignorance, but I confess I don’t exactly under- 
stand the meaning of ^stool-pigeon.’ Will you oblige 
me by explaining?” 

With pleasure. You know the pigeon is the wildest 
and most cautious of birds. They fly in flocks of thou- 
sands and tens of thousands. They are decidedly pal- 
atable when well fattened, and it is quite an object to 
capture them. This is done by means of a net about 
fifteen feet wide and forty feet long.” 

I have seen fish taken out of the Wabash with nets 
dragged in the water, but how you can drag one through 
the air and take a flock of pigeons is what I can’t under- 
stand.” 

The most simple affair in the world, Mrs. Smith, 
when you understand the stool-pigeon. The great thing 
is to get the pigeons on to the ground so that you can 
net them. One side of the net is fastened on the ground, 
and the other side is secured to a strong rope about five 
hundred feet long, one end of which is fastened to a 
stake about five feet high, and the other end passes into 
a bough-house, — that is, a little lodge carefully covered 
with straw or corn-fodder in which the operator conceals 
himself. The net is set by drawing this rope back and 
fastening it down, when the side of the net is secured 
on the ground so that the birds will not notice it. It is 
held in that position by an apparatus, which will release 
it when the operator in the bough-house pulls the rope, 
and when released is caused by another simple con- 
G * 13 


146 


STOLEN STEPS, 


trivance to rise directly upward, carrying the side of the 
net with it, and then spreading it out upon the ground. 
On that part of the ground which the net will cover 
when sprung, a quantity of wheat or corn is scattered 
for bait.^^ Just outside the limits of this baited ground, 
on a low sweep that is worked by a long slender cord 
extending into the bough-house, is a ^ stool-pigeon’ 
fastened by the feet on its perch. Now, when the 
operator at the bough-house sees a flock approaching, 
he throws up, in the direction of the net, one of the 
pigeons he has with him in the bough-house, to the leg 
of which is fastened a long, light string. When this 
bird reaches the limit of the string it gradually settles 
down in the manner usual when alighting. As the 
flock approaches, another of these birds is thrown up, 
and by this time the attention of the flock has been 
arrested, and the situation becomes interesting. Sup- 
pose yourself in that bough-house. There, in mid-air, 
hovers a flock of ten thousand wild pigeons, as free 
apparently as the air on which they are poised. But, 
you see, they are not free. The man in the bough- 
house now works his stool-pigeon, and the poor prisoner 
there on his perch does the work. He is raised up and 
let down, and as he is let down he works his wings so 
naturally that the wild ones up there in the flock are 
fooled. Round and round they circle, now right over 
your head, and anon at a distance from you ; but ever 
hovering nearer and nearer the fatal bait they now dis- 
cover. In a few moments the great flock is on the 
ground, and at the net the stronger ones have monop- 
olized that part covered with the grain. They are going 
for it with all their might. When they get their All 


AT WASIOJA. 


147 


their weaker companions of the flock can take their 
chances at the second table. But what is that awful 
thing that leaps in air right where they are feasting? 
Panic-stricken and lost in the meshes of the net, some 
eight or ten dozen of these monopolists flutter helplessly. 
I should have remarked that the eyes of our stool-pigeon 
had been carefully closed, as well as those of the flyers, 
by sewing together the lids with a fine needle and silk 
thread. Now, Mrs. Smith, you understand the mean- 
ing of stool-pigeon. As you advance in years and ex- 
perience you will discover that the masses of mankind 
are symbolized by that flock of wild pigeons. Look 
out for the stool-pigeons! Look out for the human 
fowlePs net 


148 


STOLEN STEPS, 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE BRUTAL FATHER. 

“ The Sun, that brief December day, 

Rose cheerless over hills of gray, 

And, darkly circled, showed at noon 
A sadder light than waning moon.” 

Longfellow. 

Some seven miles to the southwest of Wasioja, Smith 
found a partially improved farm that appeared to come 
up to his ideas of what would suit him for a home. It 
was purchased, and here in a small house on the place 
the young couple, for the first time, entered upon the 
matter-of-fact business of housekeeping. Neighbors 
were few and homes primitive, but, since the few were 
on an equality in the matter of conveniences, there was 
actual relish of this new life. 

But Smith was hampered for money. Enthusiastic 
faith in Wasioja had led him to exchange all he could 
possibly spare with the accommodating Moses for some 
of the choice lots in his extensive town-site, at prices 
that quite depleted his funds. This lack of money, 
however, was only a temporary matter. In a few 
months Wasioja lots would be sold at immense profit, 
and money would be abundant. This was the cheerful 
lullaby song of Moses, while Smith reposed on his bosom. 
Alas ! it was not to be. The baseless fabric of this 
vision’^ was swept away by the merciless wing of fatal 


THE BRUTAL FATHER. 


149 


fact. His bird of promise sat perched at his threshold 
— denuded. Moses held the golden feathers. No rail- 
road accepted the invitation of the bowing bluffs to 
cross the Zumbro at Wasioja. Beautiful still are the 
hills that await the tramp of the busy feet of trade at 
Wasioja, and fair is the lily-gemmed bosom of the limpid 
daughter of the lake, and lovingly murmurs the Zumbro 
where he spreads for her the bridal-bed, but for Smith 
there came no glittering gold, — only the dim memory 
of a dream ; only the consciousness that he was at the 
bottom of fortune’s ladder. 

All might still have gone well, had he only known 
there hovered on his way a foe more subtle by far than 
the wolf-man at Wasioja ; a spoiler who also sang his 
lullaby, and not only depleted the purse of his victim 
but maddened his brain, and wove his web so secretly 
and so well about the unsuspecting will that it became 
as helpless, apparently, as yonder pigeon fluttering in 
the fowler’s net. Had he only known ! Alas, and 
alas ! had he only known — only known ! 

The charm of the new life might have continued 
longer, had not the disappointment of his financial 
venture tended to sour his disposition and dampen 
his ardor in the efibrt of making farming a success. 
The little village of Ashland was only little more than 
a mile from his farm. It was one of the many dying 
towns started for speculation, and abandoned by all men 
of enterprise. The saloon remained in this corpse of 
the once living village. Here Smith was wont to 
lounge in the company of dissipated young men. The 
old drink habit was gradually re-established. The 
drink-madness possessed him. 

13 * 


150 


STOLEN STEPS, 


In the following spring, the birth of a daughter 
brought sorrow rather than joy to the distressed little 
household. To be born in poverty was unpropitious, 
but not the worst ; to be the child of poverty and of 
a father drink-mad, that was the fearful fate of the new 
being that nestled on the bosom of the mother, who, in 
the agony of despair, pressed it to her heart. The sum- 
mer passed, but to the Smith family it ripened no 
harvest. Autumn came, but with it no fruit for the 
family of the drink-mad man. The farm had been 
mortgaged and the proceeds of the mortgage were ex- 
hausted. The return of the staggering husband from 
Ashland was now always awaited with terror by the 
mother of the child that still she pressed in despair to 
her heart, and in her love wondered with strange won- 
der how God could be all love, and leave the helpless 
charge in her arms, the prey of the monster she once 
looked for and greeted with a devotion she had im- 
agined nothing could alienate. Now his coming was 
the coming of doom. More than once had this incar- 
nation of the fell spirit of evil laid violent hands on 
her. Not only had he knocked her down, but on one oc- 
casion he did this while she held the child in her arms, 
and, as she fell, a heavy table was thrown upon it by 
the infuriated madman, which so crushed its foot that 
it became necessary to send for a physician, and have 
it attended to by him. The scar remained, a lasting 
memorial of the brutality of the father. 

Brutality of the father is hardly the expression to 
make. The father was not cruel. The child, then 
only three or four months old, was a jewel he prized 
above all treasures. From the time of its birth, he 


THE BRUTAL FATHER, 


151 


had, when not under the influence of drink, tenderly 
cared for it and the patient mother. To hold the little 
one in his arms and watch in its dark, unfathomable 
eyes for the first scintillation of dawning intelligence 
was the most exquisite enjoyment this distraught mortal 
ever experienced. When the little one was six weeks 
old, he was sure she knew him when he entered the 
room. At three months of age, it was so far advanced 
in intelligence that, on his appearance, its soft, sweet 
face would be transformed into a smile of welcome so 
unmistakable and charming that the father was trans- 
ported with a love as unselfish and pure as the mother’s. 

No ; the father was not cruel. The cruelty was that 
of the irresponsible madman of whom the public toler- 
ates the creation in the saloon, the club-room, and every- 
where in the world of enlightened statesmanship, — 
tolerates, because as yet no remedy has been discovered 
that is practical, the more the shame. The cruelty is 
in that insidious vice that stealthily grows upon the 
unwary youth and fastens upon his being with its in- 
visible fangs before he is aware, and drags him down, 
step by step, till he is transformed into that Thing there 
in the ruined home, gazing on the bleeding wife and 
the quivering limb of that mutilated infant, — fit spec- 
tacle to dissolve common devils into tears. 

That sickening wound upon the foot of the child was 
a thousand times more painful to the father than to the 
infant, when he became sober. His anguish was so 
intense that his wife indulged the vain hope that this 
bitter experience would be the means of his reclamation. 
She was disappointed. His dire sense of grief and 
shame seemed to drive him to desperation. He brooded 


152 


STOLEN STEPS. 


over it so much that he could not sleep, and in his per- 
turbed state, regardless of all restraining influences, he 
went or rather was drawn, by his drink-madness, to 
the haunts of his dissipating companions at Ashland, 
where, in the forgetfulness of inebriation, he found that 
relief which is moral and mental suicide. 

While in this demented state, one evening in Decem- 
ber, he returned to his wrecked home. Entering the 
humble abode, his wife saw in him only a savage brute, 
destitute of the brutal instinct that leads the brute to 
defend its offspring and its dam. His bloodshot eyes 
fairly glared with demoniac madness, for at the saloon 
he had been taunted with the mean epithet of wife- 
beater. Something the unfortunate woman said to him, 
he, in his distorted imagination, construed into an offence, 
and with the malignity of an enraged serpent he rushed 
upon her, but she dodged him, aud, stumbling against 
something in the floor, he fell prostrate, and for a mo- 
ment seemed stunned. Without time for reflection, a 
bold resolve inspired the wife. A clothes-line was ob- 
served lying where the brute fell. In an instant it was 
seized, and with the strength of a tigress defending her 
young, she bound the stupefied wretch before he was 
able to arouse himself. Having done this, she hur- 
riedly seized her child and fled to the home of a neigh- j 
bor. With shame and grief she there told her story, ^ 
and the neighbor was persuaded to seek this madman , 
and care for him till restored to reason, and explain the 
situation. The neighbor found the discomfited wretch ;i 
sunk in the slumber that sometimes succeeds the mad | 
frenzy of intoxication. He felt for him with unex- i 
pected keenness as he looked upon his bloated face and j 


THE BRUTAL FATHER, 


153 


heard his heavy breathing, for he remembered and 
esteemed him as an intelligent, genial gentleman. All 
that long December night he sat by the fireside, and it 
was not till late in the morning the inebriate opened 
his bleared eyes and stared about him with curious 
effort to take in the situation. He seemed in a con- 
fused way to recall the incidents of the previous evening. 
The cord, still on his limbs, reminded him of the 
humiliating experience through which he had passed. 

‘^Unbind me,’’ he muttered. 

Is it safe to do so, Mr. Smith ?” 

Where in the hell is my wife and child ?” 

‘^Safe.” 

Not safe by a d— d sight, after she has served me 
this infernal trick.” 

Come, come, Mr. Smith ; you have been playing 
the mischief long enough. When you were a raving 
madman, what could your wife have done to save her- 
self, and you too, but bind the madman ? Few women 
would have had the pluck, and I am glad to believe 
few women would have been driven to the necessity. 
Here ! let me help you. You were fortunate to have 
a wife capable of taking care of you when you couldn’t 
take care of yourself. After she had cared for you, 
she came with the child to my house and sent me here 
to tell you that when the gentleman, Mr. Smith, gets 
home to protect her from the madman, she will be glad 
to return.” 

‘‘ Never shall that woman come back to my house. 
The child I will have, if I die for it ; but the woman 
that put these cords on my hands shall never have a 
chance to do it again.” 


154 


STOLEN STEPS. 


Now that he was released, the not yet sobered sem- 
blance of a man, with dogged stubbornness, bent his steps 
in the direction of Ashland, where there were also per- 
sons bearing the semblance of men who will join this 
human monstrosity in another carousal, regardless of 
consequences. But to their disappointment, this sem- 
blance of a man declines to drink with them. He took 
a drink alone. He was moody and cross. 

The snow lay in heavy drifts upon the earth, except 
where the groves sheltered it. The roads were only 
traversed by sleighs that had made a beaten track past 
the little house of the neighbor to which Mrs. Smith 
had escaped. Low clouds were drifting in the sky, 
threatening a storm. 

The neighbor had gone for a load of wood in his 
distant timber lot. His wife and Mrs. Smith were par- 
taking of lunch in a small room in the rear, used as 
kitchen and dining-room. The infant slumbered in 
quiet unconsciousness in a crib in the front room. The 
wind had subsided, but the black clouds cast their dark 
shadow over the household. It seemed as if night had 
come prematurely. 

A sudden scream from the child aroused the two 
W'omen. Hastening to where they had left it asleep, the 
form of its father was seen rushing out of the door with 
the infant in his arms. Quickly he bore it to the sleigh 
that stood in the road, and, with a crack of his whip and 
a mad yell of defiance, he was away. A demon held 
the lines and the child. Down the road the cutter flew, 
drawn by a horse goaded to his utmost speed by this 
semblance of a man ; this creation of the saloon and the 
ocial drink; this modern beast of prey that prowls 


THE BRUTAL FATHER, 


155 


into the drawing-room and is arrayed in a fashionable 
dress suit ; that grovels in the tenement and is arrayed 
in rags. The Winchester rifle and Derringer pistol are 
aimed in vain at this fleshless monster. The lion and 
[ tiger are disappearing as civilization advances into their 
1 domain ; the serpent that crawls in the path of the 
i unwary is driven from its secret haunts and destroyed ; 
! but this modern creation of a refined and enlightened 
I age but multiplies and gathers strength and ferocity, 
as prosperity and luxury develop in the path of this 
civilization. 


156 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

A FOSTER-MOTHER. 

When Smith reached Ashland on the morning of 
his release, and renewed the inner man with the choice 
potations sold at the bar of the saloon, his spirits re- 
vived, and he was prepared for any venture or desperate 
movement. The kind neighbor who had released him 
was unable to keep to himself the fact that Smith had 
been downed and bound by his doughty wife, and it 
was not a great while after he had passed through the 
village on the way to his timber lot, before, the coterie 
of good fellows, loitering about the saloon, were kind 
enough to banter the discomfited husband about the 
domestic experiences of the night before. This stung 
him beyond measure, and in one sense sobered him, — 
that is, it aroused the most virulent spirit of revenge, 
and created a determination to execute vengeance in a 
way that would be most keenly felt by the offending 
mother and wife. He gritted his teeth figuratively, 
but held his tongue. The passion of revenge gave him 
control of his faculties sufficiently to enable him to 
consummate his fell purpose. 

One of his chums owned a good-bottomed, fast-trot- 
ting horse and a cutter, and Smith challenged him to 
trade them for his breaking-team. A trade was effected, 
and Smith was provided with the horse and cutter. 


A FOSTER-MOTHER. 


157 


Driving back to the seat of his late discomfiture, he 
stopped there long enough to ferret out of his trunk a 
wig that had, in the days of his harum-scarum adven- 
tures in Fort Wayne, served a useful purpose, and which 
he yet retained as a memento of the olden days of dis- 
sipation. This he adjusted carefully over his natural 
locks, and by that means he was given all the appear- 
ance in the world of a middle-aged man of iron-gray 
hair. His bottle had already been filled at the saloon 
with the wherewithal to keep up his inspiration, but in 
his madness he knew that he must indulge in modera- 
tion if he would succeed in wreaking the vengeance he 
meditated. He also took the precaution to fill a nursing- 
bottle with milk. 

The reader has already been advised as to his next 
proceeding. His purpose was to get out of the State 
with the child in the most expeditious way. What 
should be done after that he did not seem to care. He 
drove rapidly to the east, for the direct road south was 
over a bleak, flat, uninhabited prairie, and the road 
would not be traversable through the snow ; the travel 
in that direction was exceedingly limited, though it was 
only forty miles to the Iowa line. At Rochester he had 
his horse fed, and informing the landlady that the 
mother of the child was dead, and that he was carrying 
the infant to a relative in Iowa, she did all in her power 
to give it necessary attention. Travelling all night, 
regardless of the storm that was drifting the snow in 
dangerous quantities, he reached Decorah, Iowa, in the 
morning. He had a tale to tell the landlady at the 
hotel in this place, and the child, exhausted and sick, 
was taken in charge by her. Here he remained all day. 

14 


158 


STOLEN STEPS. 


He was already sober enough to realize the blunder he 
had made and the wrong he had perpetrated ; but it 
was too late now, he thought, to undo the mischief. 
The child could not be taken back, for it was already 
sick and failing. On the second day he saw a La Crosse 
Daily, and in it a startling telegram, as follows : 

“ Mantorville, Minn. 

“ There was a startling sensation at the little village of Ashland 
day before yesterday. H. H. Smith, living near that place, had 
an altercation with his wite, in the course of which she got the 
best of him, and actually bound him hand and foot, after which 
she fled with her infant, only six months old, to the dwelling of a 
neighbor. While she was there with her child, the husband, in 
his desperation, drove to the house, rushed in, seized and carried 
off the child. Nothing since has been heard of the miscreant. 
He has, doubtless, in his drunken state, wandered off, and the 
probabilities are he will never again be seen in this neighborhood, 
for the saddest circumstance of all is the fact that the mother, 
in her di^racted and evidently crazed state, wandered onto the 
prairie, and was lost in the storm that was then setting in. Had 
she remained on the main road she would have been found ; but 
now, after exposure in the bleak winter storm for the past two 
days, there can be no doubt but that she perished. It would not 
be safe for her murderer to be found in that locality.’^ 

Folding the paper with a shudder, lie sank, in utter 
despair, upon a seat. He did not dare disclose his 
identity nor that of the child. So long had he de- 
pended on stimulants that now he felt his only escape 
was to take a drink. He did so, and then another. He 
wandered out, and when in the seclusion of a suburban 
grove removed his wig. Finding, as he wandered list- 
lessly along the street, that a company of volunteers 
just recruited were on the point of starting for the place 
of rendezvous, he promptly tendered his services, and 


A FOSTER-^MOTHER, 


159 


was accepted by the recruiting officer, though not at 
that time formally sworn in, as there was not then time 
to do so. He gave his name as Henry Hardwick, but 
did not go further and add — Smith. Within an hour 
after he was arrayed in the uniform of the army, and 
on his way with the other recruits to Keokuk, Iowa# 
Hard it was to suppress the anguish of his awakened 
conscience. He managed by drinking to keep up a 
show of resolution and manhood, but by the time he 
reached his destination it was found necessary to place 
him in hospital. There he sank into the delirium of 
brain-fever. Fortunately he fell in the hands of the 
quartermaster, who was convalescent, and who saw the 
condition of the unfortunate volunteer. Medicine failed 
to do him any good. The delirium was succeeded by 
a state of helpless prostration of body and mind. He 
lay as one dead, and the surgeon was so sure that he 
was past all hope that he reported him as dead. He 
was actually about to be removed to the repository of 
the dead, and would have been, had not the convalescent 
quartermaster observed that life was not extinct, and 
taken it upon himself to try and save the young man. 
His efforts were successful, but Smith was so prostrated 
and enfeebled that he was rejected when he offered him- 
self to be sworn in. The quartermaster still stood by 
his friend. 

Can you write a decent hand asked this official 
of him. I am greatly in need of clerical help.^^ 

I am your man,” was the answer, and at once 
Henry Hardwick was installed as a clerk in the office 
of Quartermaster Putnam. He made his newly-found 
preserver and friend profoundly thankful, for he was 


160 


STOLEN STEPS, 


an industrious and rapid accountant and book-keeper, 
thanks to the training and experience he had had in his 
father’s store. The two became intimate friends. 

Strange,” said the quartermaster, a few days after 
Hardwick had been inducted into his office, strange, I 
don’t hear from my wife. The last letter she wrote 
announced the sudden death, by croup, of our poor baby. 
You know I told you I couldn’t get away to attend the 
funeral. Not a word from her since. Halloo ! here 
comes my mail ; it has been delayed a long time. Here 
is her letter at last.” 

Keading the letter, he ejaculated, By Jove ! That 
is quick work, and well done, too. Just read there, 
Hardwick,” and he handed him the letter. 

Decorah, Iowa, 1863. 

“ Dear Husband, — I am glad to write that I am well, and 
that, by a strange interposition of Providence, a child, almost 
identical in appearance and age with our darling Grace, has fallen 
into my hands, and now looks up with the sweetest smile into my 
face. A middle-aged man came to the hotel with the poor dar- 
ling. It was sick, and its mother dead. In some unaccountable 
way this man, who was the father, disappeared. All search for 
him failed, and it is believed he committed suicide in some place 
not yet discovered, for he was dreadfully despondent. Mrs. 
Warner, of the hotel, knowing of the death of our darling (she 
only died the day before), came to me and begged me to take and 
nurse the wee sick infant. I could not refuse. It livened up at 
once, and is now well and contented. Poor dear I It is not con- 
scious of the mother under the sod, or of the father who may be 
dead, or a demented wanderer. Falling into my hands in this 
way, I feel that God has sent the child to comfort me, and my 
heart seems to respond to the — what shall I call it ? It seems to 
me I can almost hear the voice of the mother urging me to he a 
mother to her infant. Have you objections to adopting it ? I 
already call the darling by the name of our departed babe.’^ 


A FOSTER-MOTHER. 161 

Smith could read no more. He mustered all the 
resolution in his power to restrain his feelings. 

Adopt the child by all means, captain. I am 
strangely affected by reading this letter. It does, in- 
deed, look a great deal like special providence. Cap- 
tain, do you believe in God 

My wife does, and for her sake I try to ; but some- 
times it is hard work to catch on when one can^t see nor 
feel that there is any person within reach or hearing. 
Words are too vague to furnish leverage or fulcrum. 
I am not learned in the deep things of divinity, but it 
seems to me the depths of theology are only shallow 
puddles that have no connection with any living fountain 
of real truth. Do you believe in God, Hardwick 

am compelled to believe. No doubt much of 
what we call religion is but the result of ignorance, and 
ignorance is the parent of superstition ; but the fact that 
the universal experience of our race in realizing, when 
one gets to the end of his tether, that our possibilities 
are so contracted and unsatisfactory as to seem a mock- 
ery, if man is really the highest order of existing intel- 
ligence, leads me, and leads all reasonable persons, to 
believe that a higher order of intelligence exists. When 
that belief forces itself on our reason, there is no trouble 
in apprehending the existence of God. But the very 
limitations of our human intelligence compel us to look 
to God in faith, rather than with knowledge of his per- 
sonality and attributes. This is the highest order of 
natural religion, and when we get beyond our depth, 
and troubles seem to be overwhelming us, this faith is 
augmented and men pray who never prayed before. 
Here,” taking up an old newspaper, ^^here is the 
I 14 * 


162 


STOLEN STEPS. 


President's Thanksgiving Proclamation of last October. 
Take tliis passage : ‘ No human council hath devised, 
nor hath any mortal hand worked out these things. 
They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, 
while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath, never- 
theless, remembered mercy 

There, captain, is the voice of one who has been 
face to face with giant despair, and day after day strug- 
gled to keep above the surging waves of destruction, — 
not personal destruction, but destruction of the nation. 
We realize that our successes have been the fruit of his 
great mental labors and personal wisdom, backed by the 
soldiery. While we realize this, we discover the effect 
upon the mind of Honest Old Abe : he who was at one 
time a scoffer, a mere politician and droll humorist, — 
honest, nevertheless, — stands in the van of the world’s 
greatest men, but is humble as a child in the presence 
of this invisible Being we call — God. In his solemn, 
humble utterance, we have the voice of a nation bap- 
tized in human blood, shed because of wrong-doing. 
Wrong-doing would have continued but for this bap- 
tism ; wrong-doing submerged us in the whelming wave 
of threatened destruction as a nation. He who inflicts 
a wrong plants in his own bosom the seed of retribution. 
We may obtain mercy, but not exemption from the con- 
sequences of the wrong we have perpetrated. The 
Supreme Intelligence moves not by exceptional but by 
general laws. They are perfect as He is perfect ; and 
while we groan in the human hell into which we have 
precipitated ourselves by our wrong-doing, we are bound 
to acknowledge Divine justice, and, indeed, realize the 
necessity of the sufferings we undergo.” 


A FOSTEB-MOTB^EH. 


163 


Do you believe in eternal punishment 

a wrong is so grievous that it can never be 
righted, then can the conscience never be released from 
the hell into which the wrong has plunged the per- 
petrator. I do not speak of future but present punish- 
ment ; punishment that results from the consciousness 
of the wrong. Well is it that this punishment is not 
postponed. Were this the case, the earth would be trans- 
formed into the exclusive habitation of demons. When 
our educators make it their business to cultivate in the 
mind of youth the sense of present retribution for pre- 
sent wrong, and present reward for present moral victory 
over temptation, we may hope for a better and stronger 
people.’’ 

As the young man proceeded, his eye kindled, and 
in his manner tliere was such manifest feeling, that the 
captain did not need to ask him if from the inmost 
recesses of his heart came the knowledge of sorrow and 
suffering he so fervently and feelingly depicted. 

Beg pardon, captain, for the obtrusion of my views 
upon your attention. You must observe that my sick- 
ness has left me a little nervous and fidgety. I will be 
more myself when strength is fully restored. You 
know we were talking of that baby so miraculously 
placed on the tender bosom where the departed one had 
nestled. Let us, captain, indulge in the delusion — if 
so it be — that the hand of God brought about this result. 
I feel a strange interest in the little waif. As I was 
saying, I am not superstitious, but I have a premoni- 
tion that, in the person of this infant, you have a bless- 
ing upon your home. The generous affection of your 
wife for it, draws her near to me in a way I cannot 


164 


STOLEN STEPS, 


explain. In taking it to her breast she somehow takes 
me to her heart, and for all you have so generously 
done for — me, captain, — and for this 

Come, young man, I am afraid that spell of sick- 
ness has left your nerves in a bad condition. Were 
you a woman I would call this an attack of hysterics. 
You need a stimulant.” 

Hardwick had sunk into his chair, overcome by his 
feelings. 

Opening his desk, the captain took out a flask and 
poured out a glass of liquor. Take this,” he said to 
Hardwick. There are times when a stimulant will 
save a spell of sickness. I worked too hard to get you 
on your feet to have you down with a relapse.” 

Please excuse me, captain. You are very kind; 
but not that, — not that I Once I would have taken it, 
but the time has gone by. How often have we heard 
the Bible words, ^ Look not thou upon the wine when 
it is red, when it giveth his color in the cup ; at the 
last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder,^ 
and how little we thought what it really meant. It 
is when the serpent has actually bitten^ and when this 
adder has inflicted its horrible sting, that we realize the 
force of iV’ 

Well, well ; I have always indulged, and have never 
been drunk in my life.” 

I once thought I could indulge with impunity, for 
I saw a great many doing so. Unfortunately for a boy 
or young man, it is an experiment. You came through 
safe. I failed. That makes all the difference in the 
world. What young man can tell whether he will fail 
or not? You must excuse me, captain.” 


I A FOSTER-MOTHER. 165 

i Yes, yes; we all have our weaknesses. No doubt 
I it will be best for you to let it alone/^ 
j ^^Oh, how many lives would be saved, could all 
[young men know as surely as I now know that it is the 
I only safe thing to do.^’ 


166 


STOLEN STEPS. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

LOVE THAT WAS A SPARK FROM THE ALTAR OF GOD. 


The same mail that brought the captain his letter, 
brought also a package of papers. Captain Putnam 
left Hardwick alone in the office, after the conversation 
we have given. Eagerly, but with dread, the wretched 
man scanned the papers for further news concerning his 
wife. In one of them, the Wasioja Gazette, he found 
this : 


“ The sensation in the neighboring village of Ashland has in 
a great measure subsided. It has now been more than a week 
since the kidnapping of his own child by Henry H. Smith, and 
the disappearance of his wife. For the latter, all search has been 
fruitless. There is a bare possibility that the desperate husband 
relented and received his wife as she followed on foot, and, to 
escape the obloquy of his misdeeds, she was persuaded to go with 
him to some quiet retreat till the feeling should subside, or else 
she sleeps the sleep that knows no waking in her winding-sheet 
of snows or, possibly, her body became food for hungry wolves. 


Such was the severity of the storm and the intensity of the cold 


that set in soon after she disappeared, she could not by any man- 
ner of means survive, unless taken into the shelter of some dwell- 
ing. The entire neighborhood has been searched, and in vain, 
for the missing woman. 

“ Nor has the search for the kidnapper been more successful. 
The afternoon was so dark, and the air so full of driving snow, 
that no one saw the retreating madman. That he could escape 
unseen is not surprising, in view of the newness and unsettled l 
condition of the Ashland country and the blinding storm. The ^ 


A SPARK FROM THE ALTAR OF OOD. 167 


little house, where a short time ago the husband and wife and 
little babe were sheltered, looks desolate enough now. A gloom 
, hangs over it that affects the visitor more than would be imag- 
f ined.” 

Yes ; cruelly murdered ! No blood is shed, but 
the stab was no less fatal, murmured Hardwick. ^ In 
her winding-sheet of snow.^ Cold, icy lips that were 
so sweet, and that so often pressed lovingly those 
of her murderer. God ! I shall go distracted ! that 
white face will ever haunt me. Yet, I must struggle 
to live in this burning hell, — live for the darling that 
has found a home on the bosom of a new mother. For 
that God be thanked. Never shall the ears of the dear 
one hear the music of its own mother^s sweet voice. 
The new mother will be the only one she will ever 
j| know. Never shall she know that her father lives. 
\ The Harry Smith that was her father has forever dis- 
appeared. But for her the refugee shall toil ; for her 
he will live. My nerves shall be of iron and my will 
I a rock, something still to save me from distraction.^^ 
When Captain Putnam returned to his office, he was 
surprised to find Hardwick at work and in such an 
I apparently tranquil mood. He was constrained to think 
; he had overestimated the troubles that seemed to have 
i unmanned him. He noticed that Hardwick always 
I watched for letters from Mrs. Putnam with as much 
I interest as he himself felt. It became a matter of com- 
mon understanding that the letter, when received, should 
be read to Hardwick, so far as it related to the child. 

1 Captain Putnam found his aSairs greatly systematized 
under the careful management of his new clerk. In 
I a few months Hardwick found opportunity to make 


168 


STOLEN STEPS. 


favorable contracts for army supplies, and with reluct- 
ance resigned his position under his kind benefactor. 
Such were his abilities as a business man that, at the 
close of the war, he was already in good circumstances. 
He had made St. Louis his headquarters. 

Captain Putnam had not been so fortunate. He had 
not been able to indulge in those practices so com- 
mon in the supply department on the part of quarter- 
masters, by which, under the thin guise of contracts for 
supplies, they were able to command heavy dividends 
out of the profits of government contractors. His sense 
of duty and honesty restrained him, and some of his 
more expert fellow-officers looked on him as a failure. 

When the war was over and he returned to the quiet 
of his home, he was really poor, for, owing to the enor- 
mous rise in property and the necessaries of life through 
the inflation of our depreciated currency, he had not 
been able to save anything out of his salary. It was 
with mingled gratitude and misgiving he handed his 
wife the following letter he had received from Mr. 
Hardwick ; 

“St. Louis, December 21, 186-. 

“ My Dear Captain, — As Christmas is approaching, I am 
bound to keep up the good old custom of making presents. But, 
alas I I am so unfortunate as to have no family or relatives on 
whom to bestow the gifts. All day I have been thinking of the 
sweet dove of consolation that descended upon your sorrow-stricken 
wife when her infant was taken away. I herewith enclose you a 
check for five hundred dollars, which I want you to use as will 
best advance the little one’s joy on Christmas, and, as that will 
probably be by seeing the faces of brother and sister, and papa and 
mamma bright and happy, so use it that that result will be accom- 
plished. 

“Now for business. I am in want of your help. My business 
has outgrown my capacity to attend to it. I am greatly in need 


A SPARK FROM THE ALTAR OF QOD. 169 


of an honest, industrious man to assist me. I can guarantee you 
at least three thousand dollars per year as a salary, and if my 
enterprises pan out as I have reason to expect, the salary will be 
more than this. I will be at the trouble to provide you a home 
for yourself and family in this city. 

“ Do you know, captain, I feel at a loss to find words to express 
the disappointment I should feel, if, for any reason, this ofier of 
mine should be declined. Do not hesitate to accept it. This is 
the place for you to come. It is the great business centre of the 
South and West. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“ Henry Hardwick.” 


What do you think of it, wife 
Your good name, William, is, after all, the best 
passport/’ 

‘^Your good act, darling, in caring for our little 
Grace, was the key that unlocked the heart of that 
strange, sad man. It almost seems as though that little 
act of yours transformed you into an angel, in his es- 
timation. But we will go. Do not fear to trust Henry 
Hardwick. I have tried him, and if nature ever pro- 
duced a nobleman, it produced one when he was born.” 

The opening for Captain Putnam was most oppor- 
tune. It was at a time when business was at a low ebb. 
The private and public energies of both sections of the 
country had, for more than four years, been directed 
in the single channel of producing those things which 
were required for the prosecution of the great civil war. 
Now that the war was over, it became necessary to re- 
adjust manufactories and business to the normal state 
of peace. Money was exceedingly plenty, but it was 
in depreciated currency. In January, 1865, it at one 
time required two dollars and thirty-three cents of this 
H 15 


170 


STOLEN STEPS, 


currency to purchase one dollar in gold. The national 
indebtedness exceeded three billions of dollars. The 
diflBcult problem of reconstruction of the States late in 
rebellion remained to be solved, and confidence in the 
ability of the nation to meet its liabilities honestly and 
fully was entertained by but few. It was at this time 
that men of sagacity laid the foundation of independent 
fortunes. Hardwick was one of these. His profits in 
government contracts had been heavy, and when he saw 
that the rebellion had collapsed and the Union was 
saved beyond perad venture, he invested all he could 
raise in government bonds when the currency and bonds 
were at the greatest discount. He borrowed money 
and invested it in the same manner. 

It may be conjectured that Hardwick looked with 
inexpressible interest for the arrival of the family of 
Captain Putnam. He hardly dared to trust himself to 
meet the child of which he alone knew the parentage. 
The mother of this little one had been, with the refine- 
ment of cruelty, murdered by its father. Never could 
he escape the sight of the ghastly spectacle of the frozen 
lips and accusing, white face of that mother, wrapped 
in the winding-sheet of snow. Never could he teach 
that child to lisp the dear name father’^ to him. If 
he struggled with the energy and power of Hercules, it 
was not in expectation of overcoming. He would live 
and die with that white face and those mute, cold lips 
haunting his soul. How could the eyes that had so 
long been tormented with this vision of horror rest 
upon the innocent face of the little child of its mother’s 
murderer? 

‘^See it, I must!” he exclaimed to himself, on the 


A SPARK FROM THE ALTAR OF GOD. 171 

day of the arrival of the family. And yet when he 
reached the dwelling into which Captain Putnam had 
settled, his heart failed him. He passed the place and 
walked on, fearing to meet the one on whom he doted 
with all the ardor he once loved the girl at Fort W ayne. 
Passionless love now ; love that was the spark from the 
altar of God, that neutralized and even glorified the 
hell-flames in which he writhed. Slowly he retraced 
his steps ; steps almost impossible to take with legs so 
weak and trembling. 

‘^Hardwick P exclaimed the captain, as he met him 
at the door, do you know I do not feel right till I get 
you into my snug little nest and show you the old bird 
and her little ones. Come right in.^^ 

He found a nest indeed. Although but one day in 
the new home, home was there. The family brought 
it with them ; it was in their faces, in their words, in 
their actions and deportment. 

But the child. Heaven be praised ! Here is the 
darling, fresh as the morning and happy as the lark 
carolling in the sky. And there are the curling raven 
locks of the mother, and the eye, the face ! Shyly she 
glances in his strangely fascinated face; with a coy, 
bashful step she advances to him at the suggestion of 
the pleased mother, for she had learned long ago the 
interest her guest took in this sweet child, doubly dear 
to her as the strangely substituded one for the cherub 
now in the choir of heaven. Men of rough fibre can- 
not enter into the feelings of mothers of religious faith, 
in relation to the little ones separated from them by 
death. The faith that reanimates these departed ones 
with life and immortality is only capable of realization 


172 


STOLEN STEPS. 


when the faith is based on the idea of the fatherhood 
of the infinite spirit and its real kinship to every human 
being, and the fact of this kinship developing the ra- 
tional belief that it renders the child as impervious to 
the shaft of death (that simply affects the material part) 
as is the spirit of the heavenly Father. 

The coldly calculating man who judges of the value 
of things by the avoirdupois and fineness of quality — 
what it will bring in Federal money — is not capable of 
entering into the Christian mother’s feelings, and it is 
not surprising, for the power of spiritual discernment 
on his part has become dormant. 

Tenderly the unknown father takes Grace on his 
knee, and with lips parched with unquenchable thirst, 
impresses a kiss on her rose-tinted cheek. In his en- 
raptured gaze all things disappear, save this living face 
animated with the soul of that ghastly one even now 
in mute, everlasting silence, haunting him as she lies in 
the winding-sheet of snow. 

With a superhuman effort he composed himself and 
held the little one in his lap. She took to him from 
that hour, and no wonder ; for almost daily his steps 
were directed to this home, and seldom did he depart 
without leaving some token of his regard. 


STOLEN STEPS. 


173 


CHAPTER XX. 

SOFTLY THE SPIRIT OF THE NORTH WIND DREW THE 
COVERLET OF SNOW OVER HER, AND IN HER WHITE 
COUCH LULLED HER TO SLEEP. 

When Hattie Smith rushed out of the house in pur- 
suit of the stolen child, her mind was distracted by the 
sudden and terrible bereavement. She knew her hus- 
band must be under the influence of liquor, and there- 
fore madly reckless. She clung to the hope that pos- 
sibly he would relent and return, and that she would 
meet him. This wild, vain hope impelled her forward. 
It became a single and all-controlling sentiment, and 
on she ran. The country was wild and unsettled. By 
following the road directly eastward she would, in the 
course of five or six miles, reach an older settlement, 
and would be able to have access to houses on the road, 
but the wretched woman, in her dazed state, took a road 
that veered to the south. It led into an uninhabited 
prairie wilderness. Miles might be traversed over flat, 
desolate prairie and no habitation reached. 

Time, space, weariness had no eifect on the mind of 
the mother. He will repent and come back. I must 
meet them, and be with the poor little one before it 
perishes.^^ The snow began to fall. Quietly and in 
great flakes it came after a time, and rapidly it filled 
her narrow and constantly disappearing route, disap- 
15 * 


174 


STOLEN STEPS. 


pearing under the falling snow. Her heart chilled 
with despair. The wind finally rose and hurled the 
drifting snow in her face, and blocked her further prog- 
ress. Nature could endure no more, and she sank 
faint, and with an uncontrollable sense of sleep. 

She awoke in a strange place. She heard an unin- 
telligible language and looked in foreign faces. The 
tea-kettle sang on the cooking-stove, and children walked 
in subdued silence over the floor. She tried to speak, 
but her voice was feeble and so strange that it frightened 
her. She felt at her side for the precious babe, and a 
realization of the loss of it returned with all its horror. 
She screamed for help, and called on the kind-faced 
woman who had come to her on her first alarm ; but the 
woman shook her head. She could not understand. 
She was a German, and knew no English. The settle- 
ment was exclusively German, and consisted of only 
two or three families, separated by a wide stretch of 
unoccupied prairie from Ashland. Even in summer 
there was little communication of the few German set- 
tlers of the place with the country to the north. They 
were in a different county. 

Mrs. Smith slowly regained strength, and for more 
than a week was unable to be up. She could under- 
stand enough of the language and signs of her new 
acquaintances to learn who and where they were. 
Eagerly she sought for information, and at last ob- 
tained the Wasioja Gazette containing the account the 
reader has seen of the kidnapping of her child, and of 
the mysterious disappearance of the entire family. She 
was therefore compelled to abandon all hopes of the 
return of her husband and child. The fact of her 


STOLEN STEPS. 


175 


being found in the immediate vicinity of his house by 
Henry Schwab, her present entertainer, was related to 
her. Fortunately for her, she had seized a heavy wrap 
at the time she started, and when she finally fell, ex- 
hausted and chilled, in the snow, she held it about her 
head and enfolded her hands in it, so that the drifting 
snow covered her in this condition, but happily leaving 
an unconfined portion of the cape in view. It was 
this cape, seen after the storm had subsided by Henry 
Schwab, that led to her discovery. Softly the spirit of 
the north wind drew the coverlet of snow over her, and 
in her white couch lulled her to sleep. Thus shielded 
from the frost and storm, she was found in painless 
stupor by the German, and taken into his house, where 
prudent care was exercised to restore her to her self. 
Though chilled to the marrow, no part of the body was 
frosted except the feet, and they were so carefully dressed 
with snow, and afterwards kept from exposure to heat 
or air, that no serious results followed. 

When the history of the afflicted woman became 
fully known to the rescuers, they opened their hearts 
to her and did all in their power to assuage her grief. 
Strangers as they were, the disconsolate woman appre- 
ciated their efforts, and, with a determination to show 
her appreciation, struggled to compose her mind and 
be of service to them. Mrs. Schwab was young and 
sprightly, and the two women grew mutually interested 
in each other, and spent the long winter hours in the 
pleasant vocation of teaching each other their respec- 
tive languages. Much did this employment help Mrs. 
Smith in becoming reconciled to her bereavement. 

Mr. Schwab had seen enough of the bleak north to 


176 


STOLEN STEPS. 


satisfy him. He had made his settlement at this place 
in the enchanting month of June, when the great prairie 
was all abloom with flowers, and the luxuriant grass 
indicated a rich soil. The selection could not have been 
more unfortunate, for the land was so far from timber 
and so isolated from all settlements that it was like i 
getting out of the world. Germans generally have the I 
knack of getting the best of the government land, and I 
even in this case Schwab would have been all right had | 
he been patient enough to wait for developments. At ! 
this time the home he had selected on the great flat i 
prairie is the finest part of the State, and the village of i 
Blooming Prairie, on the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. | 
Paul Railroad, is in the immediate vicinity of Schwab^s 
isolated home. He had friends in St. Louis who had 
migrated to this country with him, and their letters were ! 
so encouraging, and so pressing for him to join them, 
that he and his wife had determined to do so in the 
spring. So much had they become attached to the 
deserted and wronged wife and mother, who had so 
strangely become their guest, that they treated her as 
one of the family, and urged her to abandon a country 
where the associations were so sad, and go with them to 
the more hospitable climate of St. Louis, assuring herj 
they would not let her suffer while they had anything i 
themselves. 

Hattie Smith felt that there was nothing to induce 
her to return to Ashland, or to open communication 
with any one there. Anxiously had she watched the 
papers for any tidings of the recreant husband and the i 
stolen child, but nothing appeared to give her any 
encouragement or hope. The little one, less than six 


STOLEN STEPS, 


177 


months old, could not have survived the exposure to 
which it had been murderously subjected. Its death 
was the prelude of endless separation from her husband, 
should he be alive. The providence that had cast her 
new life in the hands of these generous Germans was 
accepted by Hattie. The attention she bestowed on the 
two young children of her benefactor, and the assistance 
she was able to render the parents in many ways, so 
bound her to them, that it was as one family they jour- 
neyed to the city of St. Louis, and in a snug cottage 
entered upon housekeeping in that City of Mounds.^^ 

Here w^as born to her a son, — Alvin. He was only 
a year younger than the dear one who had been taken 
from her by a hand more cruelly relentless than that of 
death. She found in this second child an incentive to 
live and struggle. 

This story would be too protracted for the modern 
reader should the experiences of Mrs. Smith be con- 
tinued. While the family with whom she made her 
home befriended her all they could, the head of it failed 
to find at St. Louis a place for success. He found 
employment, but he found boon companions who 
brought with them from Germany many convivial 
habits which do not seem to favor those who indulge in 
them in the matter of getting along. Something in 
American atmosphere or American beer upsets all cal- 
culations on the part of those who imagine that, because 
beer and the saloon were harmless in the Old World, 
they are equally so in the New. 

Mrs. Schwab was driven to the fascinating vapors of 
the wash-tub, while her husband, with full purse, of a 
Saturday evening repaired to the saloon to have his good 


178 


STOLEN STEPS, 


time, which good time would last till Monday, when h(j 
repaired to his work for another week, to earn enougl:| 
to have anotlier good time on Saturday night and Sun- 
day. Mrs. Smith gradually drifted into the same 
employment that enabled Mrs. Schwab to maintair 
herself and family. 

She resolutely adhered, however, to the determinatior 
to preserve the refinements in herself that would make 
her attractive to her son when he should become a man | 
If she spent the day over the wash-tub, she spent tin | 
evening over books and papers. The little boy coulc 
not know his mother was unhappy, for she cultivatec 
for his sake a pleasant face and voice. What products 
more rare and blessed ? The efforts she put forth gav< 
her strength and consolation. The boy was to her j 
source of never-failing joy. What mother and sor 
became may be judged by the reader, who now fiudjl 
them in the little summer cottage by Lake Minne 
tonka. 


HAPPY FACES, 


179 


CHAPTER XXL 

HAPPY FACES. 

While Grace reclined, sobbing and faint, in the 
arms of Alvin Smith, Mr. Hardwick, who had just 
returned from Tacoma, entered. Seeing him, Grace 
rallied her temporarily prostrated forces and met him 
with the beseeching inquiry, — 

Dear Mr. Hardwick, tell me truly, am I only the 
foster-child of Captain Putnam?’^ 

“ My poor child, he answered, receiving the weeping 
girl in his protecting arms, who has been telling you 
these things?’^ 

“ Thomas Putnam.^^ 

May the curse of ; but no, not on my worst 

enemy. It is true. He told you the truth !” 

Disengaging herself from the strangely weak arms 
that seemed no longer able to support her, Grace crossed 

E he room to where the remains of her foster-father 
0posed. Uncovering the untroubled face of the dead, 
be knelt beside the pulseless form, sobbing with uncon- 
jtfollable anguish, Only dumb clay ! He had his full 
febare of sorrow. He is at rest. Glad am I you do not 
jlive to suffer with your — ^your Rising with a cry 

P ftt thrilled the hearts of Hardwick and Alvin, she 
claimed, He is my father ; I cannot give him up 




180 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Hardwick stood by in speechless distraction. How I 
he longed to tell her the truth ; but he could not. His j 
soul revolted at the bare suggestion of revealing to her j 
the dreadful fact that the one who had so long hovered ' 
near her with guardian watchfulness and love was the i 
murderer of her mother ! | 

Turning to Alvin, he said, with tremulous voice, | 
Try to comfort her.’^ I 

Unresistingly she was led by the young man out | 
of the house of death, out into the sunlight of God. j 
Gladly would he have spoken words of comfort, but he 
felt too keenly the cause she had for the grief. On the 
two walked together under the maples, till they reached j 
the cottage where his mother resided. 

Mother, said the son, as they entered, Grace has' 
suffered a great sorrow. I have brought her to you.^^ 
Mrs. Smith, said the girl, with an effort to com- 
pose herself, I have no right to enter your cottage! 
under false pretences. If you receive me, it must be| 

for what I am , — a nameless — worse than nameless | 

Come, child, I do not understand you. I only know 
you are a sister in distress. One broken down in watch- 
ing at the death-bed of a father. 

No, no ; not a father. I have been deceived. T 
am nameless. But it was cruel to dispel so suddenly' 
the delusion. Why could not he have waited till the^ 
grief for the loss of the one I supposed was my father 
had been a little less oppressive and crushing. The 
thought of what I was but a little while ago, and whaf 
I am now, chills me to the very marrow.^^ 

She actually shuddered. She grew faint, and was^ 
only able to reach a bed in the adjoining room by the 


HAPPY FACES, 131 

aid of Mrs. Smith. There she reposed in silence, save 
that ever and anon a sigh escaped her. 

Looking into her face, so pale and so beautiful, Mrs. 
Smith thought of one who might possibly be a wander- 
ing outcast ; wandering somewhere — ah ! somewhere. 
How very small is this planet, and yet how large when 
one’s child is somewhere on it and you know not, never 
can know where? Bending in tearful sympathy over 
the prostrate sufferer, she impressed a mother’s kiss on 
the bloodless lips. 

^‘How generous of you, Mrs. Smith, to bestow sym- 
pathy and tears on one so unworthy.” 

Unworthy, child ! Bring together all the treasures 
of gold and precious stones of earth and cast them in 
the scales, and you would outweigh them. Oh, Grace, 
I must cry with you. Do you know that I once had 
such a sweet, sweet babe. All in the twinkling of an 
eye it was seized and carried off — forever.” 

Not forever These startling words were uttered 

ij by Hardwick, who by an irresistible impulse had fol- 
j| lowed Grace to the cottage. 

l| y At first he stood without, but finally looked in at the 
jj open door. The setting sun cast a bright light on the 
I face of Mrs. Smith, and she stood unmistakably revealed 
^ — his wife. But before this revelation, with inexpressi- 
: ble surprise, he had heard her repeating the story of 
j, the stolen babe. The sound of that voice rolled back 
, in an instant two decades of years. With a bound the 
j wife was in the husband’s arms. 

Not forever ! Did you say, not forever ? Show her 
j, to me, and never more will I cease to praise Almighty 
I God!” 


16 


182 


STOLEN STEPS, 


Can you pardon the awful crime I perpetrated ?” 

At this instant Alvin entered. Finding his mother 
in the arms of the staid and decorous Hardwick was a 
startling display of a new departure in her manner of 
life. He was shocked. 

What does this mean, Mr. Hardwick 

“ Hardwick !” exclaimed the woman. Are you Mr. 
Hardwick, Alvin’s employer?” 

‘‘Well, mother,” said Alvin, angrily, “one would 
think you would at least wait for an introduction.” 

Mrs. Smith gently disengaged herself, and, taking 
Alvin by the hand, said with proud joy, “ My son, 
permit me to introduce you to your father, Mr. Henry 
Hardwick — Smith.” 

The young man looked increduously in the face of 
Hardwick, but before he could recover command of 
speech, Hardwick had gone to the side of Grace, now j 
on her feet fully restored and keenly interested in the | 
remarkable disclosures being made in this particular j 
Smith family. 

“ Grace,” he said, with a return of the quiet, serious j 
air to which she was accustomed, “you have never 
known me to be lacking in propriety ; you will not, 
therefore, consider the strange request I am about to 
make unreasonable or improper. Will you please re- 
move the shoe from your left foot?” Restraining the 
perturbation that made her heart flutter and throb i 
uneasily, the young lady complied with the request. 

“ Now,” continued Hardwick, “ have the kindness, with- 
out the least hesitation, to remove the hose.” She 
looked protestingly in his face, but there was a solemn 
peremptoriness in that expression of his that admitted | 


HAPPY FACES. 


183 


of no declination on her part. Alvin was about to re- 
tire, but Hardwick restrained him. Grace removed the 
hose, and not only displayed a shapely bare foot, but a 
conspicuous scar upon it. 

Here was a revelation indeed. Mrs. Smith remem- 
bered the evil days in the Minnesota home. The reel- 
ing, demented husband ; and that wound on the foot of 
her infant, inflicted by the madman. Her mind was 
staggered as that bloated maniac with the mad yell, 
rushing out into the winter storm with the stolen infant, 
was recalled in all his horrid malignity, and as now she 
looked upon the same person clothed and in his right 
mind, pointing his finger at the tell-tale record upon 
the bare foot of her babe. All seemed the mere phan- 
tasm of a dream. She stood in speechless wonder, as 
Hardwick falteringly spoke to Grace. 

Grace, is it in your power ’’ 

Before he could proceed further, Mrs. Smith held the 
astonished girl in her arms. My own darling, lost 
babe ! My own darling Eva.’’ In her ecstasy of joy 
she extended an arm to Hardwick, and drew him to her 
side, pressing the long-lost husband and child to her 
bosom. Alvin looked on this astounding proceeding in 

( bewilderment, which was noticed by the quick and de- 
lighted eyes of Grace, who had finally gathered her be- 
wildered thoughts and realized the situation. Disen- 
gaging herself from the arm of her newly-found mother, 
she went to the young man, and with a look of the 
j sweetest tenderness took him by the hand, but in a 
moment her arms stole softly round his neck, and the 
impassioned lips of the brother and sister met. 

‘‘Come, brother,” said the sister. “In our new 


184 


STOLEN STEFS, 


relation I shall be very proud of you. Come ; I want 
to show you to a lady friend of mine.^^ With steps so 
buoyant that she hardly seemed to tread the earth, she 
led him out where, on a rustic seat under a maple, she 
found Josephine. That young lady had heard the sad 
truth that Grace was but a nameless beggar. It need 
not be said that this sudden appearance of the disarticu- 
lated branch of the Putnam family, in seemingly high 
spirits, surprised and disgusted her, especially in view 
of the further noticeable fact that she walked so much 
like a royal queen, holding the arm of Alvin Smith. 

Can it be,” thought Josephine, that, out of pity 
for the unfortunate girl, he has proposed to take her 
under his wing, and she has accepted ? Such disregard 
of feeling for the dead ! I should not have expected 
it of the girl.” Seeing Alvin in his particularly happy 
mood, with the bright-faced Grace on his arm, sent a 
sudden pang to her heart. 

‘^Congratulate us!” exclaimed the saucy-looking I 
spright on the arm of Alvin. I 

“ Isn’t this sudden and remarkable ?” with a per- 1 
ceptible cold shadow on her usually sunshiny face, 
responded Josephine. 

“ Very,” said Grace. “ A Minnetonka Surprise 
Party !” With this enigmatical laconism, the marvel- 
lously happy girl withdrew her hand from the arm of 
her brother, and left him to Josephine. 1 

“ Do you blame me for loving her, Josephine ?” I 
Josephine was silent, and the shadow on her face was ! 
of the winter. 

“ We have made a most wonderful discovery. She 
has a real father and mother and brother, and I a father | 


HAPPY FACES, 


185 


and sister ! Mr. Hardwick has found a wife and a son. 
Do you wonder we are beside ourselves under such cir- 
cumstances ? Only think ! Grace is my sister, and 
Mr. Hardwick is my own father. I have no other 
news of importance this time.^’ He had found room on 
the rustic seat beside Josephine, who looked incredu- 
lous. 

It^s all plain, sober fact, Josephine. Mother is wild 
with delight, and ” 

Josephine turned her charming blue eyes upon the 
speaker, and read in his open, animated face the veri- 
fication of his astonishing story. Her keen, heaven- 
tinted eye read more. It was the tablet of his heart. 
As she read, the shadow disappeared from her maidenly 
face, and she sat in silent tranquillity. A moment 
before a stifling sensation had unnerved and prostrated 
her. It was when Grace, all joy and confidence, hung 
on the arm of Alvin, and he, with unmistakable glances 
of love, met her sweet smile. Now that nightmare had 
been dispelled, and she had read aright the tablet of 
Alvin’s heart. 

Do you ever write poetry, Mr. Smith ?” 

Not when I am in full possession of my faculties. 
Would you believe it,” he asked, as he looked into the 
heavenly eyes that rested so contentedly upon him, 
would you believe it ? Once, in a delightful dream, 
I actually wrote a sonnet to — whom do you imagine?” 

And would you believe,” softly ans^wed the girl, 
nestling close to his side there under the friendly maple, 
I “ would you believe that while you dreamed and wrote, 
i I left my body sound asleep in bed, and in spirit stood 
i by your side and read distinctly what you wrote?” 


186 


STOLEN STEPS, 


While she spoke, the arm of the young man, not with 
apparent objection on the part of the maiden, was 
around her waist. 

“ I am prepared for any revelation in this enchanted 
spot,’’ said Alvin. Some blessed spirit of the beautiful 
Minnetonka hovers in this, its chosen haunt, and in- 
spires our hearts with the sweet melody of love. Dearest 
Josephine, that ministering spirit inspires me now.” 

He drew the girl more closely to his full, bounding! 
heart, and she gazed with supreme contentment into the | 
infinite glory of those dark eyes. Two souls mingled | 
in one. The silence was broken by the utterance of 
Alvin, — 

shall the mystic sonnet of our dream be the 
living song of our united lives.” 


EPILOGUE. 


187 


EPILOGUE. 

Our domestic drama, culminating in the Minnetonka 
Surprise Party, properly closes here; but the author 
indulges the hope that the spectator will linger till the 
curtain is raised once more, that he may enjoy a final 
glimpse of the persons in whom it is fondly trusted he 
has become interested, — persons, the author would fain 
have the spectator believe, who are verities, and not 
mere phantoms of the imagination. That this fact may 
be realized, the curtain is once more raised. 

The scene is at the same enchanting summer-home 
of the Richlands, where, two years ago, we left Alvin 
Smith and Josephine in the enjoyment of that one 
moment of supreme bliss vouchsafed to our race. 

The hospitable table is spread for mid-day lunch under 
our familiar maples. Observe our host at the head of 
the table, and our hostess at his right, their genial faces 
glowing with that rare beauty which the spiritualizing 
autumn of life so richly imparts. Alvin Smith, the 
favorite son-in-law of the host, is at his right. That is 
a superb, manly face of his, and who can blame the 
contented Josephine for having suffered that sudden 
stifling sensation we witnessed a couple of years ago, 
when the poor girl imagined Grace had captured him. 
There, next to Josephine, observe that substantial, 
contented-looking man, with iron-gray hair and be- 
nevolent, impressive face, so different from that of the 


188 


STOLEN STEPS. 


remorseful one of our old acquaintance, — Hardwick, — : 
that it is only by noting the wonderfully-charming i 
matron at his side that we can understand the cause of 
the transformation. Tell me, darling,^’ he said to her 
a few days after her reunion with him, how is it that 
your hair retains its original color and gloss, and your 
face reveals no trace of suffering, and is even more 
lovely — if that were possible — than when, in the olden 
days of reckless youth, we first met 

‘^Here,^’ she replied, taking the hand of her son, 
here is the living spring that burst forth in the dread- 
ful desert of my life, about which there was formed an 
oasis for me to dwell in and be happy in his love and 
devotion.” 

But Grace ! joyous prototype of her idolized mother ; 
her we saw when the curtain first rose, and on her our 
eyes will now longest and most admiringly linger, for 
she is simply the blessedest little woman that embel- 
lishes the earth. If you doubt it, ask our old, but not 
very familiar acquaintance, that same doctor who was 
so fond of flowers, especially when left in a sick-room, 
at the Hotel St. Louis by a young lady with dark eyes 
and raven hair. That doctor never gave up the pursuit 
of that maiden till she became his adored wife. Grace 
sometimes wonders what might have been her fate had 
the love-stricken Alvin proposed and been accepted 
before he met Josephine, and she had married her 
brother. The thought makes her shudder. She is now 
confident that the doctor is tlie only man she ever loved. 
Let us catch the drift of the conversation. 

^^Yes,” remarked Mr. Richland, have always 
made home the central object of my life. Home is not 


EPILOGUE. 


189 


only in theory, but in fact, the only place in which to 
form men and women of the kind required for a repub- 
lican government. Home is itself a miniature republic 
when the parents govern themselves, and by their ex- 
ample teach their children self-restraint and self-govern- 
ment. I have been reading Bulwer, — please hand me 
the book, Ruth ; thank you. Now, I will request my 
daughter, Mrs. Wilmot (who in her own character is 
the best illustration of my author’s ideal), to read this 
passage from Pelham, for in it is the answer I would 
make in reply to the flattering remarks about our sum- 
mer cottage on this lake.” 

With that peculiar graciousness which endeared her 
to her parents and friends, Mrs. Wilmot took the book 
and read aloud. 

After this communication there was a short pause. 

What a beautiful place this is !” said I, with great 
enthusiasm. Lord Glenmorris was pleased with the 
compliment, simple as it was. 

Yes,” said he, it is ; and I have made it still more 
so than you have yet been able to perceive.” 

‘‘ You have been planting, probably, on the other 
side of the park ?” 

No,” said my uncle, smiling ; Nature had done 
everything for this spot when I came to it but one ; and 
the addition of that one ornament is the only real 
triumph which art ever can achieve.” 

What is it ?” asked I. Oh, I know — water.” 

You are mistaken,” answered Lord Glenmorris ; 

it is the ornament of — happy faces /” 


FINIS. 








£Z>4 


— DI 

A Story. By Souier L. Pierc 

Illustirated. 

12JVSO. CLOTH. $1.2S. 


‘‘A romance such as Mr. Pierce has often witnesse- 
the routine of every-day life. The narrative is a clazi 
one, which brings out all the possibilities of the idM 
the real. In the play of the author’s imagination the 
developed a pleasant picture, such as is often found ilD 
lives of those who choose for themselves what constif 
much of the real happiness of existence.” — S^. J 
Dispatch. 

^'The plot of the story is developed with an int 
rarely excelled in fiction. The author deals with | 
perplexing conditions in married life in a manner 
only an experienced legal expert could do it, but wif 
taint of dry ^ shop talk.’ The tangled threads are fi] 
straightened out, and the denouement is both satisfact 
and artistically led up to. The book is interestingly \ 
trated .” — Boston Ho7tie JoiiruaL I 



For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by the Publishers, 
paid, on receipt of the price. 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 

716 AND 717 MARKET ST., PHILADE%^ 

B D 1.3. a 

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